


the emerald napkin

by jenhyung



Series: clichéd: magic edition [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Drama, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 12:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 35,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13411653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: Taeyong has a sweet tooth, and a knack for turning invisible. – Taeyong / Doyoung (Harry Potter!AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: 35k+ of pure trash, really, please don't have any expectations, i don't know why i wrote what i wrote... giant plot holes, nasty writing, crap pace... actual warnings of **family abandonment issues, unhealthy thoughts** and the usual (kissing, jerking off) i've read this a millions times i can't read it anymore please go easy on me this time... i am truly so, so sorry if it doesn't meet expectations, not beta-ed, not good
> 
>  **ages are shifted up** : 7th years (21) / 6th years (20) and so on!
> 
> ([occurs concurrently with this work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12539684))

The kitchens are always empty after midnight.

Located directly under the Great Hall, the large chamber is enclosed with stoned walls and lined with countless of brass pots and pans. A long, wooden table is set in the centre, spanning across the entire length of the room. Leaving a wide pathway on both sides, rows of shelves stocked to the brim with cooking ingredients and utensils are present, enough to feed hundreds of students and teachers all year round, three meals a day.

On some days, however, Lee Taeyong needs more than just three meals.

Snacks were the solution; cookies were his first choice, brownies, the next.

It wasn’t like he had an _addiction_ , no matter how many times his best friend Moon Taeil, seventh year Hufflepuff, liked to insist so. It was just a reliable source of energy for Taeyong. A bite of sweets could last him hours, and that came in handy when Taeyong needed the energy to study.

Being a sixth year and skipping years in Alchemy, Potions, Charms, _and_ Transfiguration was no easy task. If that wasn’t enough, in addition to his core classes, there were his electives, Study of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and Apparition too, bringing it to a total of ten subjects. With quizzes and papers and midterms and the daily pile of homework, Taeyong _needed_ the occasional pick-me-up.

Slipping into the kitchens after midnight is always easy, considering how it’s conveniently located beside the Hufflepuff Basement. Oftentimes, Taeyong thinks it’s purely the reason he got sorted into Hufflepuff (so he could sneak in whenever he needed to).

He didn’t know if it was against the School Rules. It was never mentioned, but Taeyong has yet to bump into anyone in the kitchens past midnight.

Until today, that is.

“Er, hello,” a boy says when Taeyong steps through the double doors, causing him to stall on the spot. He was only intent on packing his usual order of cookies for his long day of classes tomorrow. Ancient Runes in the morning, followed by Alchemy.

It was going to be torture to have him last on just toast and jam.

Taeyong blinks, giving the pale boy a once-over. The intruder has orange hair, thoroughly faded, and his almond shaped eyes are studying Taeyong closely as well. The black shirt and green pyjama pants are a clear indication of his House, Slytherin, but Taeyong doesn’t recall seeing the boy anywhere on school grounds.

He is sitting by the edge of the table, hovering over a Muggle magazine and a piece of parchment, quill in hand, bookbag by his feet. Taeyong notices that his arms are dotted with white specks.

“Hi,” Taeyong responds at last, voice rough with sleep. He clears his throat.

The boy continues to stare, mouth agape. Taeyong shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny, making the boy go, “Sorry. I just,” he laughs, awkwardness amplifying in the vacant chamber. “I didn’t expect to run into anyone here.”

Taeyong shuts the door quietly, walking slowly towards the baking station of the kitchens, “Me neither.”

He mumbles his request of a platter of cookies to the wooden spoon in a baking bowl, and it comes to life instantly.

It still amazes Taeyong when the ingredients magically whizz over to start the baking process. House elves were no longer misused in the kitchens ever since Headmaster Lee had Charmed everything to cook and clean itself, which was a sight to Taeyong the first time he had seen how the kitchens worked.

Magic used to be foreign to Taeyong, despite what his other schoolmates might think of his bloodline. He wasn’t always proficient in spells or skilled in drawing magic as he is now.

As the only and first ever wizard in his family, Taeyong was thrown into the world of witchcraft and wizardry completely blind. The experience of getting lost on his own in Diagon Alley at the age of fifteen has left a scarring memory on Taeyong. It was only then, in Ollivander’s with his wand, his very own _wand!_ , in hand that Taeyong decided he was going to have to work doubly hard to get his magic under control.

It’s worked, for the most part – Taeyong was undefeated when it came to topping the cohort in most subjects, and he worked hard to be proficient in other magical aspects too; like Quidditch (he didn’t play, but he’s read many a copy of _Seeker Weekly_ ) and how the Ministry worked (he had a subscription to _The Daily Prophet_ ).

The plate of cookies materialises while Taeyong scours the kitchen for a spare lunchbox napkin, finding a mustard-coloured one tucked away on the shelves by the far wall. He packs the stack of ten chocolate chip-marshmallow cookies quickly, whisking the dirty platter away with a nonverbal spell when he’s done.

When Taeyong turns to deliver a polite goodbye, he spots the boy crouching by the oven, gingerly pulling out a fresh batch of his own cookies, golden-brown and seemingly lacking of any sort of topping. It smells far better than the ones Taeyong has in his arms, and he can’t help but to linger around, curious.

The boy must’ve sensed his gaze, looking up from prodding one of the cookies with a toothpick. He watches Taeyong carefully, gauging the response to his offer, “Want to try one?”

“Uh,” Taeyong’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth. Would it be weird to say yes? _But the cookies smell so good_ , “Sure.”

“It’s lemon,” he says when Taeyong approaches, picking one up with his thin fingers attentively. Silently, he holds it out towards Taeyong’s lips. When the Hufflepuff tries to take it from him, he shakes his head, explaining, “It’s hot.”

Taeyong thinks he’s dreaming, but that doesn’t stop him from leaning forward to take a bite of the cookie, keeping his eyes trained on it, expertly ignoring the boy that came with the treat. The cookie is soft, crumbling and melting immediately in his mouth, and Taeyong’s eyes widen at how good it is. It’s a little hot, but he sucks in a few cool breaths to sooth the dull sting, and it’s all good again. He hasn’t had anything quite like it.

“How is it?” The boy asks, already grinning confidently, as though he knew the answer.

“Really good,” Taeyong nods, bringing up a hand as he chewed. “Like _really_ good.”

“Bet they’re better than the ones you just made,” the boy lifts his brows, jerking his chin at the lunchbox napkin in Taeyong’s arms. “Those are really just sugar and flour.”

Taeyong doesn’t care for the boy’s assumptions, stepping forward to take another bite of the cookie.

It might have been the fact that it was two in the morning, or maybe the cookies were too good, and it felt like there was something in them, different than anything Taeyong’s eaten in the last week. Or maybe it was the way the boy kept _staring_. Well, that was called for; Taeyong was holding onto the boy’s wrist as he ate a cookie between his fingers.

Either way, Taeyong has his inhibitions lowered, running on relatively low hours of sleep playing part, no doubt. The boy didn’t seem like he cared about Taeyong’s grades (neither did it seem he knew of them), and it’s one of the conversations he’s had recently that didn’t involve someone sweet-talking him, a precursor to _Can you lend me your notes?_ or _Can you write my essay for me?_

Also, cookies.

Just as his lips are about to close around the tip of the boy’s fingers, Taeyong steps away, chewing deliberately, “What’s your name?”

“Doyoung,” he answers, a little winded. He seems to relax when Taeyong smiles, finishing the rest of their shared cookie. “Kim Doyoung. Fifth year, Slytherin.”

Taeyong introduces himself before saying, “Thanks for the cookie.” Although he wished for another, “They _are_ better than the ones the kitchens make.”

The revelation makes Doyoung’s light up, “Do you want more? You can take them if you’d like?”

Taeyong purses his lips, conflicted, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung nods eagerly, moving past Taeyong to where his things laid on the table. An emerald napkin of silk satin is revealed from the bookbag, and the amber napkin of cotton Taeyong used is incomparable. He shortly considers if it was one belonging to Doyoung, and not the school.

The guess is justified when he spots a family emblem on the napkin.

“Wait,” Taeyong balks when Doyoung packs all nine remaining cookies, not leaving one for himself. “You’re giving me all of them?”

Doyoung shrugs, tying the top into a neat ribbon, “It’ll go to waste if I don’t. Most of my friends don’t eat too many sweets.”

Taeyong blinks, “Why’d you make so many then?”

“‘Dunno,” he says, though Taeyong thinks otherwise. He chews on his lip, “Anyway, these are probably much healthier than the one the kitchens cook up.”

“Ha,” Taeyong deadpans. “You sound just like my best friend. He says that all the time.”

Doyoung picks the lunchbox napkin by the ears, extending it to Taeyong, “It’s true. You’d do better having these than those sugar infested ones you’re always having.”

“‘Always’?” Taeyong echoes, hand stilling over Doyoung’s. His eyes drop from Taeyong’s face to the ground. “You’ve seen me before?”

“Uh, I guess?” Doyoung mumbles. Taeyong takes the lunchbox napkin with a little more apprehension than he had a minute earlier. Is this another bribe? Did Doyoung need help with homework? “Just around – once or twice.”

“Oh.” Taeyong shifts his weight from a leg to the other. “Thanks, then.”

Doyoung doesn’t look up, frowning at his feet. Taeyong waits, thinking Doyoung might want to say something else, request something of Taeyong, but the boy doesn’t, so he says, “Have a good night?”

“Goodnight,” Doyoung nods, turning away. Taeyong doesn’t know if he was expecting more or if he _should_ have even been expecting more (what exactly?), but it makes him feel uneasy, even as he returns to the Hufflepuff Basement, two lunchbox napkins in his arms.

             

Taeyong wakes up late the next morning, and he misses breakfast. There isn’t time to swing by the Great Hall, so Taeyong scurries over to Ancient Runes, taking his two lunchboxes worth of cookies with him. He arrives ten minutes before class is set to start, having sped-walked his way through the lazy morning crowd. The classroom is still empty, and his seatmate isn’t there yet, so Taeyong takes the chance to have a cookie.

Amber and emerald stare up at him and Taeyong contemplates saving Doyoung’s cookies for the break between Ancient Runes and Alchemy, but decides that he didn’t really want to have the school cookies anymore.

At least, not when he had the lemon ones that tasted tons better.

Untying the emerald napkin, Taeyong picks one up delicately, pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t crumble. He eats slowly, savouring every bite as he did while Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws begin to enter the classroom. It makes him feel full inside, not just physically, though it did help to sooth his rumbling tummy, but something else. A fleeting thought occurs, making Taeyong wonder if Doyoung had put a _love potion_ in it. He stares at the cookie between his fingers, pushing the thought away when he realises that he doesn’t feel any particular way about the Slytherin boy.

The cookies were just too good, really.

He reaches for another just as his seatmate arrives, thumping his textbook noisily against their shared desk. Nakamoto Yuta, Ravenclaw sixth year and also this year’s new perfect. They’ve been seat partners ever since their fourth year together in Ancient Runes, and Taeyong was the only one without one. They didn’t talk much, seeing as they only had this one class together, but they were still friendly, if anything.

“Morning,” the brown-haired boy grumbles, slumping against the desk.

“Morning,” Taeyong answers. It wasn’t an unusual sight; Yuta was also taking as many classes as Taeyong was, and it isn’t surprising to see him grumpy in the morning. Though, he did seem a little more on edge today, “Want a cookie?”

Yuta turns to rest on his cheek. He opens his mouth to either refuse or thank Taeyong, but his eyes catch sight of the cookie in his hand, then the emerald napkin on their desk. Surprised, he sits up, “That napkin. Isn’t that – Kim Doyoung?”

Baffled, Taeyong doesn’t answer nor does he stop Yuta from thumbing at the Doyoung’s family emblem on the napkin, confirming his suspicions.

“You know him?” Taeyong asks after a momentary pause, too distracted to continue eating.

Yuta’s brows knit together, “We’re best friends. How did you get that?”

“Er,” Taeyong blinks. He’s never spoken to Yuta about anything but Ancient Runes, this was new. “I ran into him in the kitchens last night?”

“I know _that_ ,” Yuta rolls his eyes, looking at Taeyong intently.

 _You did?_ Taeyong frowns, equally confused.

“I meant – ” Yuta stares at the cookies, shaking his head. “Those cookies, they were meant for – ”

Professor Jeon strolls into class then, and, with a pleased look on his face, announces that they’re going to have a pop quiz on last week’s new list of runes. Thankfully, Taeyong has them all memorised, but it also meant that his conversation with Yuta was going to end there. Packing the cookies away, he clears his desk just as Professor Jeon Charms their quiz papers, floating down in front of them.

Taeyong had hoped Yuta would take the initiative to kick-start the conversation again after the lesson, but the Ravenclaw is up and out of his seat the moment Professor Jeon calls for the end of class.

Unsettled, Taeyong mulls over whether or not he should be eating the rest of Doyoung’s cookies. If they were meant for someone else, he shouldn’t be eating them, right?

 _But then again_ , Taeyong thinks, clutching the lunchbox napkin close to him, leaving the classroom and moving to the dungeons where Alchemy lessons were held, _I thought these were for me._ _And, if they were meant for someone else, he wouldn’t have given them all to me, right?_

“Missed you at breakfast.”

Taeyong startles at that.

“Jisoo said he couldn’t wake you,” Taeil continues, adjusting his bookbag as he matches Taeyong’s pace. “Packed you some toast and jam, but I see you’ve got some cookies of your own there.”

“Oh,” Taeyong mumbles, waiting for Taeil to say something about the colour of the napkin, unlike his usual variation of yellow. The older boy doesn’t seem to take notice. “Thanks.”

“‘S’alright,” Taeil says easily. “I’ll have this before Student Support. My student and I are tackling werewolves today, and if our discussion on Animagi last session is worth anything, it’s going to be a long one.”

Taeyong nods, really only half paying attention as Taeil continues on about his morning at the greenhouses for Herbology. Taeil’s voice is soothing, and they help drown out Taeyong’s worrying thoughts, even as he recounts how Professor Choi was going to be starting on Venomous Tentaculas, a toothy plant with vines that try to grab at living prey.

                

Dinner in the Great Hall is always a busy affair. There are platters of roast beef and mashed potatoes and grilled vegetables, but Taeyong doesn’t bother with them, already having a meal’s worth of cookies. Throughout the day of classes, Taeyong doesn’t eat another lemon cookie. In their place, the chocolate chip-marshmallow ones tasted, well, they didn’t taste _bad_.

They tasted alright, as always, but they lacked a certain quality to it.

He sighs forlornly as he picks up another from the amber napkin, smoothening out his Potions notes. There was an essay due in the following week and he was already done with his first draft, but it did no harm to be prepared for anything else.

Professor Jung had called Taeil up after his Student Support lesson, and Taeyong guesses the Hufflepuff’s been picked as his annual inventory marker, as the older boys had called it. It’s usually reserved for the seventh year that showed the most potential in Potions.

Speaking of whom, is missing from the Great Hall.

That was unusual for Taeil, who was usually punctual for dinner. Maybe something had come up; Taeyong wonders if he should pack some dinner for his best friend.

Bored, Taeyong props his elbow on the table, resting his chin his hand as he looks around the Great Hall. The Gryffindor table is loud, naturally, but there’s no sight of their Quidditch Captain, Seo Youngho. Taeyong didn’t know the boy personally, but Taeil did, in a way, and he’s gotten so used to his best friend gushing about his crush that it’s almost normal now for Taeyong to try and find Youngho in a crowd.

 _Odd_ , Taeyong thinks. Youngho was usually seated in the middle of all the attention. _Unless_ … Taeyong looks over his shoulder at the Slytherin table. Their Captain and Keeper, Oh Sehun, was Youngho’s best friend and often sat together. Yet, there was no sign of Youngho too.

Though, someone else is looking right back at him.

It’s Doyoung, because who else could it be? Taeyong takes a moment to register that Doyoung is staring, yet again, not at all bashful. At a loss of how to react, Taeyong offers a tight smile. Doyoung looks away then, and Taeyong averts his eyes too, perturbed at the way his neck prickles.

He’s barely given enough time to comprehend his thoughts when a Charmed paper plane lands by his hand, fluttering impatiently. Placing the cookie down, Taeyong glances around the table, making sure no one’s looking before opening it,

_How are the cookies?_

Taeyong worries his lip. Who _was_ this boy? What did he want? If he needed Taeyong to help with an assignment or something, he should just go ahead and ask, because Taeyong’s not enjoying how this cookie deal is making him feel. Spelling a quick _They’re good_ , Taeyong sends the paper plane back with a snap.

Without waiting for his reply, Taeyong packs up and leaves, scurrying out of the Great Hall without turning back.

 

The Hufflepuff Basement is cosy.

Taeyong spends the rest of his evening in a comfy, high-backed chair by the corner of the large chamber, trying hard to focus on his Potions essay. It doesn’t come easy though, not when Taeyong’s so distracted by the presence of lemon cookies he can’t, or _won’t_ allow himself to _,_ have.

There’s a low hum of chatter, study groups working around large, wooden tables, pairs and trios huddled together. Taeyong exhales tiredly. He wonders why he wasn’t sorted into Ravenclaw. It might’ve been a better House for him, solitary and intelligence. Then he remembers that he was only staying in the Common Room because he was waiting for Taeil to show up, worried for his best friend.

By eleven, Taeil has yet to return, and Taeyong leaves his seat when he’s reminded the time by Hufflepuff’s sixth year prefect and roommate, Choi Seungcheol. With one last look at the doors, Taeyong decides that he’ll just have to speak with Taeil in the morning.

Sleep, however, is a fickle friend. Taeyong tosses and turns in bed, groaning in frustration when he can’t figure _why_ he’s so irritated. Quietly, so as to not wake anyone up, he pulls aside his bed curtains, enjoying the cool air that sweeps into his stuffy bed area. Dejectedly, he lies awake for a considerable amount of time, picking apart his thoughts and then putting them back together.

Sure, schoolwork was driving him up the wall, but it wasn’t anything that he hasn’t handled before. Skipping years was hardest in his third, when everyone was confused as to why he was joining the fourth years, but even that Taeyong was able to overcome.

No. It’s something else.

His eyes catch sight of the emerald napkin peeking from his bookbag, and he scowls, flipping over miserably. Taeyong berates himself for letting such an intruder mess his system so easily. It’s new, whatever this boy was, whatever he wanted. Never in his six years at school has Taeyong let anyone bother him terribly, always so focused on his studies and just the important things that needed his complete attention. He’s never had the image of someone’s face, the sound of someone’s voice, stuck in his head for so long.

 _Is it the cookies?_ Taeyong sulks. _I don’t know_ , he answers himself. There was no reason such a person could simply waltz into his life and throw him off guard like that. _It’s just the cookies_ , Taeyong decides, shooting up in bed. _I should return them_.

Moving on autopilot, he quietly climbs out of bed, grabbing the cookies as well.

_Yes, I should return them._

Sharing a room with Seungcheol (and two others of the same character, Hong Jisoo and Song Yunhyeong) is pleasant, especially when he made sure to keep his side of the room clean. His prefect status, however, was a little bit of a hassle sometimes.

Students out of bed past midnight was an act deserving of detention, and Taeyong’s habit of sneaking out to the kitchens was one that put him in danger of receiving them.

Though, his knack for turning invisible helped.

Taeyong has yet to master holding onto the magic for long when he did, but it’s enough to let him out of his bunk without getting caught. The Invisibility Charm worked better than the Disillusionment Charm for when he was moving around, and it’s been a spell he’s had under his belt since running away from several seventh years in his third. It proved to be helpful when he wanted to get out of unfavourable situations too.

He didn’t know if anyone else was aware of his tendency to spell himself invisible, but if anyone were to notice, it would’ve been Taeil, and he surely hasn’t brought it up.

Taeyong manages to hold the magic long enough to slip out of the Common Room, and he’s completely visible again by the time he’s standing at the entrance to the kitchens. The door looks a lot more daunting today. Taeyong reaches for the knob, hovering over it when he hesitates.

 _Why am I nervous?_ He grabs a hold onto the knob with a little more vigor (and a clammy hand).

_He might not even be in here anyway._

With that thought in mind, Taeyong pushes the door open, freezing up when he finds Doyoung already staring back at him.

“Hi,” Taeyong says first this time, putting forth a front and stepping into the kitchens confidently.

Doyoung gapes up at him, as if he hadn’t expected Taeyong to return. He rushes to stand, nearly knocking over his tub of ink in the process, “Hey.”

“Here,” Taeyong holds out the remaining three lemon cookies (he couldn’t resist, alright), still in its lunchbox napkin. He notes that Doyoung is in pyjamas again today, but a green apron is tied around his waist, and his fringe is held up by a hair tie.

Taeyong isn’t sure what to make of it.

Doyoung blinks, stepping forward to take it, “You didn’t finish them?”

Instead of answering, “I have Ancient Runes with Yuta.”

Confusion, then comprehension flickers across Doyoung’s face, “Oh.”

“He said those were meant for someone else,” Taeyong shrugs nonchalantly, moving with the intention of requesting yet another set of cookies from the baking bowl. “I didn’t feel right having them.”

Doyoung scratches his cheek, “Uh, about that, actually – ” he pauses, looking torn. Taeyong folds his arms across his chest, waiting. Doyoung groans, leaning against the table, “I need to sit down to say this.”

 _Is asking for help that difficult?_ Taeyong thinks, but he does take pity when Doyoung seemed to turn paler with ever second, fidgeting with the hem of his apron. He opens his mouth to offer Doyoung the help, since it appeared to be so nerve-wrecking for the boy to ask himself, but instead,

“I have a crush on you.”

Taeyong’s jaw drops promptly to the ground. His mind blanks in that instant, and he really isn’t sure if Doyoung’s being serious, or if this was some odd Slytherin initiation game where Doyoung is tasked to –

“Did you put a love potion in your cookies?” Taeyong gasps, a hand flying up to cup his forehead. That would explain the irritation, the mind games, the thought of Doyoung floating around his head –

“What?” Doyoung stands again, frowning. “No, I didn’t take any love potion. I’m being serious.”

Taeyong wants to clarify that he meant Doyoung gave _him_ love potion, but it didn’t make sense like that either. Neither did it seem the case, not when the boy seemed so upset at the accusation. Disoriented, Taeyong hugs himself tight, clueless as to what to say. Doyoung was certainly attractive, and the cookies he made were a definite plus point, but he barely knew the boy. Taeyong wasn’t a prude, he’s had crushes before, sure, but this… This is new.

Everything about Doyoung felt new.

“Er, thanks?” Taeyong winces at his own voice. Rejection sounds terrible on anyone. “I mean, I’m sorry, you’re really nice and all, but – ”

“I mean,” Doyoung interjects, biting on his lip. Taeyong feels even _worse_ at the sight of Doyoung’s half-smile. “Sorry, I know this is really sudden, I didn’t know I was going to have to – I mean – I was just planning on – ”

Taeyong waits patiently for Doyoung to gather his words.

“I told Yuta I was going to bake the person I, uh, liked,” Doyoung keeps his eyes trained on the ground. “A batch of cookies, to try and get to know them more, but I didn’t know I had to tell them so quick.” He adds, “I mean you.” He shakes his head, “I mean didn’t know I had to tell you liked you so quick.”

Taeyong is speechless. He didn’t want to say no to Doyoung; if a day’s worth of thinking about the boy is anything to go by, there must be _something_ there, right?

“I don’t know,” Doyoung smooths his palms out against his apron, nerves so clear in the air between them that Taeyong can practically feel the energy on his skin. “Maybe we could try and get to know each other better? I mean,” he laughs mirthlessly, “If you’re a least bit interested?”

Taeyong thinks through it thoroughly. He was already strung tight with schoolwork, pursuing such an extracurricular activity (for a lack of better term) might just hinder his days.

But Doyoung _did_ seem nice enough, baking cookies for him, still bothering with the conversation although Taeyong clearly had intentions of rejecting him. If anything were to go awry, at least he’d get to have a few more rounds of sweets.

Plus, he argues that if he said a hard no, he might regret it in the morning.

“Okay,” he agrees after a long while. Doyoung looks up slowly, doubt colouring his expression. “‘Okay’ to getting to know each other, I mean.”

Doyoung seems to register his words only then, lips parting, “Wait, really?”

Taeyong nods, caution thrown into the wind when he notices the corners of Doyoung’s lips tugging upwards, “I really liked your cookies.”

The taller boy laughs at that, though it seemed more like a sigh of relief. He picks the leftovers up with an inquiring look, “I should thank my mother for that then. She’s always saying the Muggle way is the better way.”

“‘The Muggle way’?” Taeyong parrots.

Doyoung nods, untying the lunchbox napkin to take a bite out of a lemon cookie, “With an oven and waiting and all that jazz. She says they food will taste better without the magic in them.”

This was a concept lost on Taeyong when he’d first come across the kitchens in his first year. Food was not something that could simply be conjured up, but there were Charms that helped aid in speeding the process up, which is what Headmaster Lee spelled the kitchens with.

The Muggle way essentially meant baking everything by hand, and going about the normal processes.

Taeyong wonders if that’s why the cookies tasted so good.

“Oh,” he says numbly, watching as Doyoung finishes up. “Is your mother a Muggle?”

“Nah, I’m a Pureblood,” Doyoung answers without much care. Taeyong ignores the twinge the comes with it. It’s been years since the revolution, but given Taeyong’s case, he’s always clicked better with Halfbloods. “She loves Martha Stewart though, says she’s a witch in the kitchen.” Doyoung smiles at Taeyong then, a small smile, traces of uneasiness still visible.

Taeyong appreciates that Doyoung doesn’t ask about his parents in return, “I mean, she’s okay, I guess.”

Doyoung hums, licking the crumbs off his fingers, then swiping them on his apron, “I’ve been wanting to try her recipes out, actually. I found a ton of them in her cookbook, and I snuck it back here after summer break.”

Taeyong cracks a smile. He’s heard of people sneaking in Muggle chocolate and magazines and even cell phones (those get caught the quickest), but never a cookbook.

“I made some today too,” Doyoung continues, ears burning bright red when he turns to check on the oven. “I didn’t know if I was going to get to hand them to you, but – ” he looks back at Taeyong, the same careful expression back on his face. “Want one?”

There really isn’t much thinking required, “Sure,” Taeyong says, stepping forward just as Doyoung moves to pull the fresh batch from the oven.

They smell different this time,

“Cinnamon and brown sugar,” is the explanation given. Doyoung busies himself with fanning the cookies cool, but he goes on, “When I saw you eating the school’s cookies at dinner, I thought maybe you didn’t like the lemon ones anymore… so, I tried something new.”

Taeyong does his best to ignore how endearing that sounds, and he starts to explain himself, “It’s not that I didn’t like them, I just thought they weren’t for me, and, like I said, it didn’t feel right to have them, I don’t know.”

Doyoung isn’t fazed by it, focused on gently breaking the cookies free from the baking paper. When he does, he hands one to Taeyong, unlike the previous night, where he had it between his fingers.

It’s of the same texture, though a little sweeter than the lemon ones. The smell and taste of cinnamon reminds Taeyong of Christmas from back when he was a child, one of the nicer memories he’s had. He nods as he chews, knowing that Doyoung is studying his every reaction.

“I like this one too,” Taeyong says after his first bite.

“Of the two? Which d’you prefer?” Doyoung asks curiously, not helping himself to the batch.

Taeyong hums, thinking over it a second, “I like them both.”

Doyoung scrunches his nose ( _badump!_ ), “But if you had to pick one?”

“They’re both good,” Taeyong insists, grinning when Doyoung narrows his eyes. “Why don’t you try one?”

“No, it’s okay,” Doyoung clears his throat, shifting to unpack the lemon cookies, replacing them with nine new cinnamon-brown sugar ones. “I made these for you.”

The words are so _sweet_ Taeyong has to gnaw on his lip to keep himself from smiling like he was deranged. Maybe it was because he’s never been considered that way by anyone before (or if he had, they didn’t make it obvious enough for Taeyong to catch it), but it encourages him to step close to Doyoung, lifting his half-eaten cookie to Doyoung’s lips,

“Have some,” Taeyong urges. Doyoung’s eyes widen, and he sucks in a deep breath before he does, holding out a hand under his chin to catch any crumbs. “And?”

Doyoung swallows thickly. His wide eyes wander across Taeyong’s face, and the subject of his perusal stands his ground, taking the chance to look at Doyoung too. From this close, Taeyong takes in the cute puffs under Doyoung’s eyes, the slope his nose, the dip of his cupid’s bow, the jut of his lower lip. Doyoung smells like cinnamon and sugar, but he also smells like vanilla and coffee.

“I like this one better,” he says quietly. Taeyong pushes the cookie to Doyoung’s lips again, and he takes another bite, holding Taeyong’s wrist fixed, watching the other intently.

Taeyong thinks that Doyoung has pretty lips.

At that moderately alarming thought, Taeyong steps away, finishing the cookie before anything else is allowed to transpire. Doyoung starts at that, tilting away to continue packing up the rest of the batch for Taeyong to take with him.

“Thank you,” Taeyong mumbles, receiving the emerald napkin, bow tied neatly once more.

“Will I, uh – ” Doyoung licks his lips nervously. “Will I see you here? Tomorrow?”

Conflicted, Taeyong answers vaguely, “I might be a little busy.”

Sure, he might’ve said yes to the idea of getting to know one another, but Taeyong is reserved. It was going a little too quick for him, and the thought of Doyoung being able to do that with so little scares him just a little. He needs time to think. Was it the cookies? Or the fact that he possibly felt bad for Doyoung? Or was there really something there?

“Oh,” a look of disappointment flashes across Doyoung’s face, and Taeyong looks away. “Well,” he smiles tightly, composure from earlier gone just like that. “I’ll be here, if you ever want to just… talk.”

“Okay,” Taeyong says softly. In hopes of alleviating the sour mood he’s plunged them into, he adds, “I’ll try my best to make it.”

It doesn’t seem to help much but Doyoung is nodding anyway, “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Doyoung,” he says before leaving, hugging the cookies close to him as he makes his way back to the Common Room, spelling himself invisible when he makes it through the doors.

      

x

     

Taeil is late for breakfast this time, but he still makes it in time for waffles. Taeyong’s saving Doyoung’s cookies for History of Magic before lunch, settling for an English biscuit and some jam to tide him over Potions. When the older boy does get seated, at Taeyong’s inquiry, he reveals that he’d spent the previous evening with Youngho, of all people, in the library.

On some level, Taeyong’d already guessed it that was it. Taeil was so blindly head over heels the Gryffindor Head Boy, it was only a matter of time before something happened between them.

Though, he didn’t expect Youngho to come over and drag Taeil away, though the latter seemed equally ruffled.

From his seat, Taeyong watches as Youngho leans so obviously close to Taeil, a grin on his face. If Taeyong’s intuitions were right, the boy probably had a crush on the shorter boy too.

At the thought of a crush, a paper plane lands right where Taeyong’s elbows are leaning against the table, effectively ruining his concentration at trying to read Taeil’s lips.

“What’s that?” Yunhyeong asks curiously, catching it when it nearly topples off. He quickly hands it back to Taeyong when the paper plane tugs itself free of his grasp, appearing Charmed only to be received by Taeyong. “A secret admirer?”

“No,” Taeyong laughs, brushing the question off, holding the paper plane tight until it loses its magic, stiffening again. It wasn’t a lie, technically. He knew who it was from. “Probably just someone who needs help with a paper or something.”

“Probably,” Yunhyeong shrugs, giving Taeyong a good-natured smile before turning to resume his conversation with another Slytherin on his right.

The note reads,

_Just wanted to wish you a good morning?_

There’s a smiley next to the end of it, and it makes Taeyong grin so wide he has to take another bite of his biscuit to compose himself before snapping a quick reply, muttering the incantation under his breath. He adds a smiley of his own,

_Good morning._

This is unchartered territory, hearts thumping and fingertips tingling. What was it? _Flirting?_

Taeyong stifles a laugh when he thinks of it. The next plane is back in under a minute. Taeyong grabs it before it lands, and no one notices it this time. He feels a pair of eyes boring holes into his back as he unfolds the letter,

_How are the cookies?_

Doyoung _was_ watching him. Taeyong hooks his ankles together, feeling a flush come up to his neck when he entertains the thought.

 _Haven’t had them_ , he magics back. _Saving them for History with Prof. Park._

The next paper plane doesn’t make it back before Taeil does, and the Hufflepuff is climbing back into his seat, blush on his cheeks, smile on his lips.

“Moon Taeil!” Taeyong grins, mood lifted, pulling the lunchbox napkin to hold as he leans over to thwack Taeil on the shoulder. “That was _not_ nothing! Tell me everything, and tell me now!”

“There’s nothing to tell!” Taeil insists, but the smile doesn’t fade the slightest. “He just wants to meet after dinner, y’know, to get a, uh, second opinion on his Potions’ essay.”

“Come off it,” Taeyong scoffs, looking past Taeil’s shoulder to find that, _yes_ , Youngho is indeed still staring. He looks away when Taeyong catches his eye. “It’s a date, and you know it.”

“It definitely is _not_ ,” he clicks his tongue, hurriedly eating the rest of his waffle. It was fifteen to the bell, and the dungeons were a distance away, but Taeyong could afford being late just this once.

“It so is!” Taeyong rolls his eyes, packing his things as Taeil finishes up, downing the goblet of orange juice he’d Charmed earlier.

Taeil was a whiz at Potions, but terrible, sorry to say, at Charms. If Taeyong had any more patience, he wouldn’t mind coaching the other boy on how to do it himself, but Taeil’s efforts at turning pumpkin to orange has failed more times than Taeyong bothers to remember counting. “What are you – ”

“Rubbish,” Taeil is insistent, getting off the bench, scooping his textbook and bookbag swiftly. “What about you, Taeyong? Got a crush of your own?”

A name and face pops up immediately, but Taeyong snubs the fire. Startled, he nearly trips over his feet climbing out of the bench, “No? What? We were talking about you!”

“Yeah,” Taeil reaches for another two slices of toast to take with him. “But you’re always on about _my_ crush! I haven’t heard you talk about anyone for a long while now, eh?”

“That’s because there isn’t anyone,” Taeyong huffs, hitching his bookbag onto his shoulder. “I have no time to be dating right now, you should know.”

Taeil’s expression turns serious for a moment for a fraction of a second, and if Taeyong hadn’t been glaring at him so, he would’ve missed it. While Taeyong has had minor crushes, no one has ever bothered to pursue him long enough to tear through his defences. Maybe it was because Taeyong was always so cold, appearing so emotionless, so hostile. It just took time, even with Taeil, for Taeyong to warm up to people, barely any easier when regarding friends.

When it came to suitors, after having met with rejection, there hasn’t been one that cared enough to stay.

At least, none that Taeil knew of.

 “Don’t be daft, Taeyong,” Taeil chides, dropping the chance to pull Taeyong into a serious conversation about his subliminal thoughts on relationships. He packs the toast messily into a napkin. “There’s always time for people who matter.”

Perplexed, Taeyong makes his way down the Great Hall, and Taeil follows on the other side of the Hufflepuff table, still fixing his makeshift lunchbox. Taeyong has Doyoung’s cookies atop his Potions’ textbook, his family emblem staring up at him.

Just when he’s about to reach the end of the long table, a paper plane arrives, landing itself neatly in Taeyong’s arms. Before Taeil notices, Taeyong quickly unfolds the note, decorated with another smile,

_Hope they’ll still taste good by then. Hope I see you tonight too._

“Let’s go,” Taeil calls from the double doors, and Taeyong hides the slip of paper in his textbook quickly. From the corner of his eye, he spots Youngho quickening his pace. At the thought of walking to class with both Taeil and Youngho and being their third wheel, Taeyong grabs Taeil by the arm, forgetting about the note as he rushes them to the dungeons for Potions.

 

x

            

Through no conscious fault of his own, Taeyong forgets about meeting Doyoung in the kitchens that night.

It’s been a long day; History of Magic was spent eating cookies, and Astronomy was spent trying not to fall asleep. Transfiguration, though, was the toughest lesson of the day. They were finally on the lesson of conjuring birds, which was far harder than anything Taeyong’s ever been tasked with, including both Vanishment and Conjuration spells.

Despite that, he was still the only person in the class of seventh year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins that managed at least one yellow, able-bodied bird that twittered around until it lost its magic and vanished into thin air. Taeil struggled with a slew of yellow feathers shooting out of his wand, flooding their desk in a fluffy of feathers, causing a few other students to sneeze violently.

By the end of the hour and a half lesson though, he managed an inanimate yellow bird, which was still something, considering someone across the class had managed to conjure a half-rabbit-half-frog mutant (not a sight Taeyong ever wanted to see again).

Exhausted, Taeyong climbs into bed, pulling his patchwork quilt up to his chin, falling asleep without much trouble.

              

Unfortunately for him, Taeyong’s schedule this term has him assigned Transfiguration for fourth period on Tuesdays _and_ Transfiguration for first period on Wednesdays, meaning a sort of back-to-back on turning nothing into yellow birds. Reluctantly, he dresses for the day, conversing with Jisoo and Yunhyeong as they ready for a new morning of eggs and toast (and yellow feathers, in Taeyong’s case).

When he’s up in the Common Room, he doesn’t find Taeil waiting for him, so he heads to the Great Hall on his own, taking the route past the kitchen as he did so.

 _Oh my god_ , it hits him.

Taeyong cringes inwardly at the thought that he was supposed to meet Doyoung last night. He said that he’d be busy, but he didn’t mean to actually forget about their little meeting. Guilt ebbs in him like a little ember, and it’s uncalled for, he thinks disdainfully.

It wasn’t like they were _actually_ dating, it was just a meeting anyway, Taeyong shouldn’t even be feeling _this_ sorry for missing their… date? _No_ , he snaps at himself. _A meeting. Between two friends. That are getting to know each other._ He settles, _Yeah, that sounds about right_.

With a heave, he climbs up the final steps towards the paved courtyard, turning and –

“Morning.”

Taeyong swallows the scream in his throat.

It’s just Doyoung.

The guilt is back and heavy and combusts into firebright when he notices Doyoung’s mussed hair and the shade of grey under his over-bright eyes.

_Did he wait up for me?_

“Made this for you,” Doyoung smiles shyly, tiredly, and it’s a charm on its own. He holds out another lunchbox napkin, identical to the one Taeyong had left tucked safely away in his trunk. “Dark chocolate and orange.”

“A new recipe?” Taeyong asks, taking it with murmured thanks. “You didn’t have to, really.”

“I wanted to,” Doyoung says candidly, a dimple dipping shallow on his left cheek when he smiled. _Oh, that is really cute._ “I noticed you didn’t come by last night, so I wanted to bring this to you,” Taeyong is going to melt, “Y’know, to tide you through classes.”

“Thanks,” Taeyong says again, a flare of warmth exploding through him when he figures that Doyoung was thinking about him. _Obviously._ “I doubt I’d make it through today if I didn’t have these,” he says kindly, starting to move away as a gaggle of second-years emerge from behind him.

“Long day, yesterday?” Doyoung asks. Taeyong pinpoints the underlying question immediately.

“Yeah,” he begins to walk, hoping for Doyoung to follow, and the taller boy does. It feels odd to apologise for not making it, but it doesn’t stop Taeyong from feeling uneasy regardless, having left Doyoung hanging like that. “Transfiguration was a bummer.”

Doyoung’s long legs could probably take him to the Great Hall quicker than the speed at which Taeyong has set for them, but he didn’t appear to mind much, “Is it really that much harder? I’m already having trouble understanding what Professor Hwang’s saying about Vanishment spells, I haven’t a clue on what I’m supposed to do during O.W.Ls.”

Taeyong laughs, remembering when he had to take his O.W.Ls last June. It went pleasantly, though the weeks leading up to the exam were _torturous_. It’d gotten so bad that Taeyong was prescribed a Calming Draught by Madam Kwon, but it was worth the stress, and he’d emerged from the exams with all ten subjects classified _Outstanding_.

“We’ve just started on bird conjuring,” Taeyong shares, just as they turn into a particularly noisy hallway.

“How’d that go?” Doyoung asks, tilting his head curiously.

“Quite alright,” Taeyong remembers watching his lone bird flit around the classroom, minutes before its eventual demise. “Conjured just one, though the task was to conjure at least five.”

“One sounds a big enough accomplishment as it is,” Doyoung compliments fluently, stepping aside to let a first year Ravenclaw run past him, looking plenty lost. When he’s back by Taeyong’s side, he’s a little closer than before. Taeyong says nothing about that. “I’m sure you’ll get it soon.”

“Thanks,” Taeyong pauses. Then, “If you ever need help with O.W.Ls, you could always come to me for help.”

He didn’t usually enjoy putting forth such offers, especially when there were already enough students asking him for help, but Doyoung has yet to ask for any, and it was really the only way he could repay the boy for the cookies.

“Really?” Doyoung beams, smile _blinding_. It’s the corner before the Great Hall, and Doyoung stops them before they make the turn. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong shrugs. “I hear I’m pretty good at Transfigurations, might be able to do you some good, I guess.”

Doyoung’s brows lift at that, and he stares at Taeyong in disbelief. Did he think Taeyong was being humble as a front? Or was he genuinely surprised that Taeyong would offer help?

“Okay,” he says finally. “Okay, I will.”

A group of Gryffindors pass them, and Taeyong sees Youngho rushing ahead, a wide grin on his face, leaving his posse behind.

 _That can’t be good_ , he thinks instantly, watching as the Head Boy hurries towards the Great Hall.

“Listen,” Taeyong says quickly, his stomach flipping over twice at the thought of Youngho finding Taeil again, not being there to witness it. “I have to go, but,” he shakes the lunchbox napkin, “Thanks for these, Doyoung. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” Doyoung says distractedly, probably wondering why Taeyong was in a rush to get away. “Will you – will you let me know if they taste good?”

Taeyong blanks, “I haven’t had any – oh.” _He meant tonight_. Taeyong nods hastily, smiling to help rid the tension between them, “Yes. Yeah, I’ll be there tonight.” Without thinking, “Promise.”

Doyoung inhales sharply, “Okay.” He takes another breath, “Okay, I’ll see you later?”

“See you,” Taeyong gives him another smile before rushing off to the Great Hall.

The sight that greets him is, honestly, one that he should’ve expected.

“Good morning?” He asks, giving Taeil a pointed look as he slides into his seat heavily, leaving his belongings on the space beside him, lunchbox napkin on the top.

“Morning!” Youngho says chirpily, reaching across Taeil for a slice of toast. Taeyong watches with narrowed eyes when Youngho repeats the motion for a scoop of marmalade.

“Youngho,” Taeil clears his throat, getting a hold of Taeyong’s attention. “Will be joining us for, uhm, meals? For the next couple of weeks.” When Taeyong opens his mouth to speak, Taeil continues, “Because he needs help, with his, uh, essay.”

“Sure,” Taeyong says doubtfully, turning away when Taeil sends him a glare. It will have to be a conversation for later then. As Youngho begins to speak again, successfully capturing Taeil’s attention, Taeyong turns to the new parcel of cookies, licking his lips excitedly. Discreetly, he unties the ribbon at the top, nearly tumbling off the bench when a card falls out. With a snap, he _Accio_ s the parchment into his hand, flipping it over,

_Hope you have a good day._

Taeyong hides his grin, slipping the note into his bookbag carefully. Sending a letter back to Doyoung would be too obvious, what with Taeil and Youngho sitting across him. He’ll just have to wait until tonight.

As always, the cookies taste phenomenal. It’d never occurred to him that dark chocolate and orange would go well together, but Martha Stewart must certainly be a witch in the kitchen to be making up such delicious recipes. He eats only one cookie, savouring the rest for after Transfiguration _and_ Potions.

            

That night, Taeyong remembers to find Doyoung in the kitchens. It’s been a long day, Transfigurations, Potions, _and_ Charms to top it all off, but fourth period was, thankfully, an assigned study break. Catching up on textbook readings and homework always made Taeyong feel a lot more at ease after.

“Hey,” Doyoung grins when he enters the kitchens, at his usual seat by the end of the long table. He looks relieved at the sight of Taeyong, and the latter can’t help but imagine how Doyoung must’ve felt the night before, waiting for Taeyong to arrive since he said he was going to.

“Hi,” Taeyong breathes, stepping towards Doyoung with the lunchbox napkin folded neatly. “Here,” Doyoung takes the napkin from his hands. “I really liked the cookies today too, I don’t know how you do it,” he laughs, remembering how he’d given Taeil a tiny piece of a cookie, and it’d left the older boy pleading for more.

Doyoung clears his things from the seat on the other side of the corner, an invitation for Taeyong to sit, so he does.

“It’s really easy actually,” Doyoung says, resting his quill on an expensive looking holder, brushing his work aside to focus on Taeyong instead.

“I’d probably burn something if I had to cook the Muggle way,” Taeyong thumbs the trail of flour Doyoung’s left on the table. “Did you make more today?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung rests his cheek against his palm. The way he’s eyeing Taeyong… it’s too endearing. “Cranberry and granola.” Taeyong taps his foot excitedly against the leg of the table.

It’s quiet for a moment, “Last night,” Doyoung starts hesitantly. Taeyong stills. “I wanted to give you the cookies, but you, uh, didn’t come.”

“Yeah, I – sorry,” Taeyong mumbles, picking at the edge of Doyoung’s parchment paper. “I was just really tired yesterday, I forgot about coming down here.”

“It’s okay,” Doyoung smiles warmly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes; Taeyong feels worse. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to meet Doyoung, he did, it just slipped his mind. _Why_ did Doyoung even like him anyway? “I was just curious. I thought maybe – ” he’s speaking so softly behind a hand that Taeyong is straining to hear him speak. “I thought you changed your mind, or something.”

Taeyong drums his fingers on the table. There are definitely feelings for Doyoung somewhere deep inside him, interest, maybe, the only explanation as to why it’s got Taeyong thinking about the boy, feeling guilty for not coming down to the kitchens even though he already mentioned he’d be busy.

He looks at Doyoung keenly, taken aback to see the worry lines creasing deeply across his forehead, lips pulled into a small frown.

How long has he harboured a crush to be holding such feelings?

“Sorry,” Taeyong whispers apologetically, wondering if it would be appropriate to reach across the table for Doyoung’s hand. He doesn’t. “I mean, I’ve really only just met you, but,” he laces his own fingers together tightly. “And I really like talking to you,” Taeyong says sincerely, leaning forward to try and have Doyoung look up. “And I think you’re really nice.”

Doyoung sulks like a child, “I know, I’m just – this wasn’t how I thought it’d go, sorry,” he answers honestly.

“Well, I mean,” Taeyong is clueless has to how he’s gotten into this position. He’d always thought he was the one who needed coaching in relationships. “We could go on dates? Just around school?”

“Aren’t those for people who’re already, like, _together_?” Doyoung looks up then, words far too innocent for Taeyong to keep in a laugh.

“No?” He tries to stifle it when Doyoung frowns glumly. “Getting to know each other, spending time together… you don’t have to be in _love_ to do things like that,” Taeyong lets a bubble of laughter through, earning himself an irksome look, “At least give me a chance to get to know you, before asking me to…” He fumbles for the words, “Make a decision?”

Doyoung eases at the notion to date, scratching at his cheek (a habit, Taeyong notes), “I have study break for fourth period on Friday… We could meet? Just to study, or like – ”

“Okay,” Taeyong agrees readily, having free period then too. “Where d’you want to meet? Hopefully not here,” he tries to joke, “I don’t think it’d be very conducive to have raw meat and vegetables flying over our heads while the kitchens prepare for dinner.”

“I know a quiet spot off the Quidditch Pitch? It’s a little cold since it’s by the Great Lake, but there aren’t too many people who know of it?” Doyoung suggests. “We could meet by the Quidditch Gate.”

“Alright,” Taeyong nods, knowing vaguely how to get there. He’s been to several Quidditch matches, just to see the game in person, not just off text. In efforts to keep his word, he asks, “Do you play Quidditch?”

“Uh,” Doyoung sniffs. “Not for the school team? But I want to, though.”

Taeyong hums, “Did you go for try-outs this year?”

“No,” Doyoung busies his hands, shaking ink off his quill before cleaning the nib carefully with a napkin. “My brother used to play for Gryffindor, and I don’t know,” he clears his throat. “Brother complex, or something like that.”

“Oh,” Taeyong had only an older sister, and she was a Muggle. Not quite any room for sibling rivalry or anything of the sort. “Where is he now?”

Doyoung rolls his papers up neatly, “He plays for the Guri Gargoyles now, the regional team.”

Taeyong’s read all about them in _Seeker Weekly_ , a team renowned for their speed and talented Seeker, “Kim Gongmyung?”

“That’s the one,” Doyoung tucks his things away. “You would see why I wouldn’t play while he was on the team, right?”

“Yes,” Taeyong answers honestly, falling into a fit of laughter when Doyoung glares at him, deadpan. “What! You asked!”

“I was expecting a different answer,” Doyoung scoffs, but the tease to his tone is a sign that there was no bite in his words.

The oven dings, and Doyoung is out of his seat, shuffling over with flower-patterned oven mitts to check on the cookies. He deems them ready, bringing the tray of cookies over. Taeyong waves a trivet over wordlessly, and Doyoung blinks at him twice before uttering a quiet _thanks_ , resting the piping hot tray on it.

“That smells really good,” Taeyong sighs, looking on as Doyoung fans it cool with a Muggle magazine, picking one up only when Taeyong makes an impatient hum.

“It’s hot,” Doyoung reminds him, holding it out. Taeyong debates one whether he should take it from Doyoung, or simply take a bite. Pushing his doubts away, Taeyong holds Doyoung’s wrist steady as he did to Taeyong the other night, biting a piece off.

The granola cookies aren’t as smooth as the others, but the cranberries are chewy, and it tastes just as good as the others do. Doyoung smiles when he says just that, and they share that one cookie, alternating bites. When Taeyong takes the last of it, Doyoung steps away to pack the remaining cookies into the lunchbox napkin that Taeyong’d brought over.

“I was thinking,” Doyoung starts, piling them into the middle of the square cloth. “If you’re too tired to come by at night for the cookies, I could have them sent to you in the morning?”

Taeyong breaks mid-yawn, a little embarrassed, “Sent to me?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung ties the corners of the napkin together expertly. Taeyong wonders if he learnt that at home too. “I overheard Youngho and Sehun in the Common Room last night, about how Youngho was going to start hanging out with you?” Taeyong tries not to grimace. Youngho was fine. Taeil’s inane blubbering was not. “I could have Youngho hand it to you then?”

“Would he do that?” Taeyong is puzzled as to why Doyoung didn’t ask to have them sit together at meal times too. Maybe at least then he’d have someone to talk to while the lovebirds were busy fawning over one another.

 _Did he want to keep this a secret?_ Probably, considering how they didn’t have a label on them yet.

“I think I could figure something out,” Doyoung grins, handing the presentable lunchbox napkin to Taeyong, who takes it thankfully. “So,” he exhales loudly, a cast of reluctance in his eyes. “I’ll see you on Friday?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong smiles at the thought. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

            

Youngho comes empty-handed the next morning, but he does come with a message,

“Sehun says he wants something out of it if you want his help,” he says around a mouthful of Cheeri Owls cereal. “Blackmail or not.”

“‘Blackmail’?” Taeil echoes, rightfully confused. “Who’s blackmailing him? What for?”

“‘Dunno,” Youngho polishes off the rest of the milk, tipping the bowl to his lips. Taeyong resists the urge to head over to the Slytherin table and question Doyoung of his odd ways. _A secret_ , Taeyong reminds himself. _That’s probably it_. “But it must be something good,” Youngho isn’t helping. “Sehun was pretty adamant about receiving something in return. Looked pretty guilty too.”

“Okay,” Taeyong plays it cool, ignoring the way Taeil gaped at their conversation. “I’ll… handle it.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Taeil demands, but it does nothing to persuade Taeyong to let spill of his new friend, watching without care as Youngho shrugged too, brushing past Taeil yet again to reach for several sausages to pile onto his plate.

            

x

 

Entering the Slytherin Dungeon later that evening is easy. Taeyong’s roommate Jisoo was friends with Yoon Jeonghan, a Slytherin sixth year. With a promise to reward them both with copies of his Herbology notes, Jeonghan reveals the password to him without much care.

Being the sole focus of attention when he steps through the doors, however, is a little harder to take. Their Common Room is chilly, a complete one-eighty with against the Hufflepuff Basement. Lavish-looking chairs with green and black embroidery are arranged neatly, and the stone gargoyles on the walls are daunting, blinking down at Taeyong.

His canary robes make him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the room of shades of green, black and silver.

Taeyong ignores the whispers, searching the crowd for Sehun.

Who he sees first, however, is Doyoung. Why that keeps happening, Taeyong doesn’t know, but it happens. Doyoung’s sitting by the fireplace, and the shock on his face is evident, near petrified. There’s another boy on his right, unfamiliar to Taeyong, and a girl on his left, equally unfamiliar.

Like the rest of the Slytherin population before him, they’re all blatantly staring.

Finally, he spots Sehun’s long limbs cradled in a two-seater by the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on the left of the dungeon, lazily levitating a piece of kibble over the nose of a black cat. Holding his head high, Taeyong walks over to Sehun, brushing past Doyoung without a glance the boy’s way.

If he had to go through such lengths to keep their friendship, or whatever it is, under wraps, Taeyong’d better do the same.

“I’m here because Youngho mentioned you wanted something in return?” He says bluntly, fighting the urge to crouch down and pet the cat, fur silky and shiny even from a distance. He’d always wanted one.

“Yeah,” Sehun drawls. “I don’t know what you’re up to with whoever it is in here,” he says loudly, giving the room a glare. Taeyong follows, turning around to find Doyoung on one knee, but the boy on his right is holding him down in bewilderment. “That knows what they know, but I want something for my services.”

“Okay.” It’s a personality so unlike Youngho’s, Taeyong takes a moment to right himself. “I could have my Transfiguration notes duplicated for you?”

A blonde sitting two seats away answers in Sehun’s place. With a mean sneer, he speaks harshly, “Who’d want copies of _your_ notes?”

In his peripheral, he sees a blur of orange struggle, but before it can move any much more, Sehun sits up, aiming the kibble right between the boy’s eyes with an unusually loud _thwack!_ The spot turns red in the next instant, and the cat is padding over to devour any evidence of it ever happening.

At most, Sehun sounds _bored_. “I’ll have you know Taeyong here is one of the smartest students in this dumb school,” he casts several more kibble bits at the boy, all of equal force, causing him to cower and the cat to mewl, satisfied at the fresh onslaught of treats. “Shut it.”

The boy prepares a retort, but the girl by his side shoves him with her shoulder, bunny toothed with wide eyes, keeping her head low as Sehun tilts his head, waiting for them to retaliate. Threatened, they turn back to their textbooks, eyes downcast.

Leisurely, Sehun turns to face Taeyong, “Transfiguration notes sound good. Potions, too.”

Taeyong nods numbly. Then, “Thanks,” he says, glancing sideways at the boy, still groaning painfully at the sting of kibbles on his face, probably feeling a lot like plastic pellets.

Sehun lies back down, resting his head on the armrest. “Just looking out for one of Youngho’s,” he says simply.

 _Oh,_ Taeyong thinks, thanking Taeil briefly _._ Slytherin loyalty was always a sight so alluring.

Sehun resumes teasing his cat with another piece of kibble, though it looks fairly uninterested now, having its fill just a moment before.

At that, the conversation ends, and Taeyong turns to leave. Before he can even make it past the fireplace again, he hears a heavy _whoosh!_ and another groan from not far behind him. Surprised, he finds that the blonde boy had stood to follow him out of the dungeon, but Sehun, having seen it, spelled a book off the bookcase, slamming it mercilessly into the back of the boy’s head.

“If I catch anyone following him,” Sehun drones, venom in his voice is clear as day. “You’ll spend the remainder of the year hexed with a new spell every morning.”

Not wanting to spend another second in the unwelcoming dungeon, Taeyong leaves, not turning back until he reaches the safe confinements that is the Hufflepuff Basement.

            

The next morning, Taeyong wakes bright and early with an intention of finding Youngho before clamouring into their usual seats at breakfast. Just like several mornings before, he catches the Head Boy bounding down the stairs, scarlet cloak flapping into the faces of unwitting first years, ridiculously long legs taking him three stairs at a go.

The emerald napkin is gripped tightly in his hand.

“Youngho!” Taeyong calls out (for if he didn’t, he might never be able to catch up). “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Curious, he looks over Taeyong’s shoulder, probably looking for any signs of Taeil. With a smile, “Yeah, sure. What is it?”

They move to a more secluded part of the hallway, and Taeyong is immediately irritated at the fact that he has to physically look _up_ at Youngho to have a conversation. With a deep breath, he starts, “I don’t know if Sehun’s told you, but – ”

“Oh, yeah,” Youngho nods understandingly. Taeyong clamps his lips shut. “When you went to the dungeons last night?” He blinks, taking a step back to give Taeyong a once-over, “You’re okay, right? Did someone follow you?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Taeyong waves his hands aimlessly between them. “I just wanted you to know – Taeil likes you.”

Youngho nearly doubles over, “ _What?_ ”

Taeyong hitches his bookbag further up his shoulder, “You heard it.” He hopes selling his best friend out is enough payment for having made Sehun look out for him. “And you didn’t hear it from me, okay?”

There might be a chance Youngho isn’t breathing. “Okay,” he finally wheezes, staring vacantly at the spot above Taeyong’s head.

“He’s just a little…” Taeyong trails off, noticing a group of Slytherins headed their way. Tugging Youngho by the elbow, he redirects them towards the Great Hall, now that the important bit is out of the way. “He’s a little shy. So, don’t give up, or anything like that.”

Youngho stumbles a little on his feet, slowly retaining the information given, “Okay. Thanks.”

Taeyong plucks the lunchbox napkin from Youngho’s loosened grip, “Thanks for this too.”

“Say,” Youngho coughs, regaining his senses as the Great Hall comes into view. “Would you ever tell me who these are from?”

“I just told you that Taeil likes you _back_ ,” Taeyong says flatly. “Is that not enough?”

Youngho’s lips break into the biggest smile Taeyong has ever seen on the Gryffindor, “Just wondering!”

“Act normal,” Taeyong hisses, spotting Taeil by the bench. When Youngho’s smile seems widen even more, Taeyong chastises, “Stop smiling like that, you look like your face is going to split in half.”

Going separate ways at the head of the table, Taeyong makes his way towards Taeil.

“Morning,” Taeil looks up when Taeyong climbs into the bench, startling when Youngho near falls into his lap _trying_ to take his seat. Taeyong bites back a snarky remark when Youngho apologises with a mischievous grin. They fall into an easy conversation about their Student Support lesson later in the day, and Taeyong seizes the chance to delve into today’s batch of cookies.

Another note falls out, but the grumble in Taeyong’s stomach convinces him to take a bite before reading it. Mint and chocolate chip, Taeyong figures after half a cookie, nodding happily as he flips the note between his fingers,

_Sorry about last night… Quidditch Gate, 3PM?_

Taeyong peeks a glimpse at the Slytherin table over his shoulder, blinking when he finds Doyoung already looking at him, lips set in a hard line. Confused, Taeyong spells a quick _Yes_ back onto the parchment paper, sending it to Doyoung under the tables, having it land on his lap. They’d already set the time and place, hadn’t they?

Ignoring the uneasiness brewing in his gut, Taeyong picks up another cookie, tying the napkin back together sloppily, saving the rest for later.

            

The Quidditch Gate is located between two stone towers, the path leading right leads to a footpath towards the Owlery, the path leading left leads to the Great Lake. Taeyong is there twenty minutes after three, Apparition having run longer than expected, and the ways from the Great Hall to the Quidditch Pitch is quite a long one. The attainment of his Apparition license, however, is worth it.

He grins when he finds Doyoung waiting on his own, pacing the length of the gate with his arms swaying restlessly.

“Hey,” he says, a little breathlessly. “Sorry, I got caught up in class.”

Doyoung smiles, a dimple denting his cheek, “It’s okay, I didn’t wait long.” He takes a step closer, squinting, reaching out to pick at something in Taeyong’s hair, “You – uh, you have a – ”

A yellow feather is what Doyoung pulls from his hair, and Taeyong groans.

“It must’ve been one of Taeil’s,” he judges, running a hand through his hair to get rid of anymore that might be hidden in there. Transfiguration was his second period of the day and _no one_ told him he had feathers stuck in his hair? “Bird feathers, and all that.”

“How many have you managed to conjure?” Doyoung asks, leading the way down left. It’s a narrow path, and their shoulders bump as they make their way from under the Quidditch stands and towards an open field.

“Two,” Taeyong rests his textbook on his hip, following Doyoung closely as he makes a sharp turn away from the castle, appearing confident in where he was bringing Taeyong to. “I had one more, but it disappeared into a pile of feathers before it could even tweet.”

“That’s a little morbid,” Doyoung laughs. They trek through a stretch of tall grass before the Great Lake comes into view, and Doyoung is turning left and right, exclaiming quietly to himself, pointing at a large oak tree, “Just over there.”

“How’d you find this place?” Taeyong asks curiously. He staggers when the tip of his sneakers catches on a moss covered aerial root, and Doyoung grabs onto him before his face can meet the ground. “Thanks,” Taeyong laughs airily, letting Doyoung help him through the rough, until they’re by a smooth patch of grass under the tree.

When Taeyong mumbles his distaste for sitting on soil, Doyoung pulls a thick throw from his bookbag, a feat only an Extension Charm can accomplish. It’s green (of course), and Doyoung nudges Taeyong away with his hips as he magics it to lay out for them to sit on.

“Found it in second year,” Doyoung says, taking up the space on the left, leaving the right for Taeyong, so he takes it. “I was watching one of my brother’s matches, and it was taking too long, so I wandered out here.”

“It’s nice,” Taeyong says softly, leaving his belongings at the edge of the throw. There isn’t much resistance when he lies on his back, groaning at the stretch, sighing in satisfaction when he hears his back crick thrice. Doyoung’s quiet laughter brings a flush of heat to Taeyong’s ears. “What?”

“Nothing,” Doyoung hums, lying on his back too, leaving several inches between them, yet close enough for Taeyong to feel his warmth. “Didn’t you say you have to study?”

“No,” Taeyong lies, closing his eyes. “I’m tired.”

It’s peaceful; the Great Lake carried a sense of tranquillity, and it would be so easy to fall asleep right here, cool air brushing past them ever so often, the sound of rustling leaves, the smell of fresh air.

“Last night…” Doyoung breaks the silence, but his voice is barely above a whisper, not enough to jar Taeyong.

_This again?_

He continues when Taeyong makes an inquisitive hum from the back of his throat, “Sorry, I, uh, didn’t come up to help you.”

_Oh._

Taeyong didn’t really mind. He was used to hearing such words, and it was good enough that Sehun was there to hex that boy, so he didn’t have to do it himself.

“But I’m still sorry,” Doyoung says, even after Taeyong’s slurred reassurance. Taeyong sighs, eyelids feeling heavier with every second; Apparition really took the magic out of him sometimes. “I was thinking of going for Quidditch try-outs, and it’d be a mess if Sehun knew it was me.”

“I said it’s fine, Doyoung,” he murmurs. Geared on switching topics, “When are try-outs?”

“After Christmas break,” Doyoung answers. Taeyong feels him shift closer on the mat, their hands nearly touching. “Or whenever someone leaves the team.”

“I’m sure you’ll make the cut,” Taeyong says honestly, despite having never seen Doyoung play or fly before. He makes a mental note to ask Youngho more about Quidditch. “Which position are you aiming for?”

“Chaser,” Doyoung fidgets. “But, I think I could play a Beater too.”

“Hmm, you should just go for it, if the chance is given. Wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot, right?” Taeyong cracks an eye open, just a little, staring down his nose to see Doyoung’s hips aligned with his. Then, frowning when he sees how much longer Doyoung’s legs are. Tilting to lay on his left, he surprises himself when Doyoung’s face is barely inches away, already staring at him, something he seems to do a lot.

So, Taeyong stares back, and its only moments after that he decides that he _really_ likes Doyoung’s eyes. They’re dark, marred with lighter hues when the sun hits just right, deep and enthralling and Taeyong thinks he can look into them forever. Mind addled with sleep, he reaches to brush at the little puffs under Doyoung’s eyes with the pad of his pointer finger, soft and plush.

Doyoung breaks into a smile at the touch, “What are you doing?”

“Looking at you,” Taeyong scoots closer to prove his point. Doyoung draws a sharp breath. “What? You do that to me a lot.”

“Do I?”

Taeyong shrugs, drawing his hand away, “You tell me.”

Doyoung wets his lips, “I think I do.”

Taeyong waits for Doyoung to lean forward, because it just feels _right_ to him that they kiss.

The touches between them, the looks they share, the warmth in his heart, the tingle in his toes. He feels the urge to pull a quilt around them, lie together with his cheek to Doyoung’s chest, listening to the sound of their breathing, their hearts beating. The sky would be clear of clouds, just like they are now, and the lakeside would just have them two, just like it is now.

There was really no other way to think of it, he just liked being around the boy.

Doyoung might like him a lot more, but Taeyong was catching up quick.

“Are you going to kiss me?” He asks when Doyoung doesn’t move, blink nor breathe.

His voice is hoarse, “Can I?”

Taeyong nods, grabbing Doyoung’s hand between them lacing their fingers together. He lets his eyelids fall shut when Doyoung inches closer, the throw bunching at the movement.

It’s a light brush of the lips, completely innocent, and Taeyong only feels Doyoung’s lips for a second, then he’s met with his eyes again.

“Is this – ” Doyoung whispers, so close. Taeyong breathes Doyoung in, a little dazed. “Is that what happens on first dates?”

Honestly, Taeyong wouldn’t know. He hasn’t really been on a date like this before. Though, the desire to have Doyoung kiss him again trumps all else, so he nods again, this time, pushing himself forward to slide their lips together. His brain lights on fire and it spreads through his body, feeling a bolt of lightning spark through his veins when Doyoung kisses back.

After a moment and then some, Taeyong decides that lying on his side makes it hard to kiss. He pulls away to roll onto his back, grinning when Doyoung chases after him, propping himself on his elbows and slotting his right leg between Taeyong’s thighs, catching their lips together again.

They kiss for what seems like hours, just the slide of their lips together, until Taeyong’s are numb and possibly swelling. He can’t find it in himself to care, not when it’s the first he’s been kissed like this, held so close by Doyoung, a hand tenderly supporting the back of Taeyong’s neck, rubbing circles against the back of his ear.

Doyoung pulls away suddenly, breathing heavily. Taeyong parts his lip to ask why he’s stopped when Doyoung falls atop his chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs,

“This is tiring,” he admits unexpectedly, lying completely over Taeyong, cheek on his clavicle.

Taeyong takes a minute to process, laughing aloud when he does, “How’re you going to play Quidditch when you can’t even kiss for longer than a minute?”

“Don’t laugh,” Doyoung huffs, yet the glee is impossible to doubt. “I literally can’t feel my arms.”

Taeyong cards his fingers through Doyoung’s hair, gently digging into his scalp while they wait for their breaths to even out.

On inhales, Taeyong catches the scent of Doyoung’s hair, pegging it similar to a homemade apple pie. It’s sweet, and it helps him to relax, for an odd enough reason he can;t figure. Piqued, he takes another whiff secretly, giddy when his bones turn into mush.

With Doyoung’s chest to his, the rapid thudding of Doyoung’s heart against his ribs is painfully obvious. He expects the heartrate to slow just as Taeyong’s does, coming down from the adrenaline of it all, but it doesn’t, beating just as quick, steadily. He has his head tucked under Taeyong’s chin, effectively hiding his face away from Taeyong’s curious eyes, but it’s enough, the way Doyoung anxiously fiddles with Taeyong’s fingers.

“I think I might be catching up,” Taeyong says softly, heart growing too big for his ribcage.

“What?” The vibrations of Doyoung’s voice sends shivers running up Taeyong’s spine.

“Liking you,” he laughs nervously. Doyoung freezes, and Taeyong hopes he doesn’t pull away, because it’d be a lot easier if he didn’t get distracted by Doyoung’s eyes. He explains when Doyoung remains still, “I don’t know – how long you’ve liked me, but I think I’m catching up.”

Doyoung lets out a shaky breath, incredulous, “Am I dreaming?”

Taeyong smiles, tugging lightly on Doyoung’s hair, “I don’t think so.”

“I hope not,” Doyoung laughs, lifting himself off just enough for Taeyong to guide him back down, taking a kiss. It’s comfortable like this, feeling their smiles through the kiss, moving away just to drown in giggles, opening their eyes just to stare each other down, and then repeating it all over again.

It’s an even shorter moment after that Doyoung is lying on Taeyong’s chest again, sighing, “I’m tired.”

“Maybe _you_ need some cookies,” Taeyong teases. Doyoung grumbles incoherently, though there’s no inclination of him moving away. They lie together, and Taeyong would’ve fallen asleep if it weren’t for his crave to take in every minute they were spending together.

Taeyong could make time for this. He could make time for Doyoung.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s a whirlwind of firsts after that.

Taeyong first conjures his Patronus in front of Doyoung, revealing a ragdoll cat for the first time several dates after their first. It’s become routine to meet whenever they matched study breaks, and when they were taking breaks from doing actual work (Taeyong, mostly), it was time spent learning more about each other. Doyoung’s response was that he was afraid he was never going to be able to conjure a Patronus, being so afraid of animals. Taeyong had teased that they weren’t _actual_ animal, no matter how corporeal, and the other was grumpy until Taeyong pressed a kiss to his lips.

Doyoung first brings Taeyong up to the Owlery before one of their dates, terrible at hiding his surprise when Taeyong says he’d never been up the tower. He had an armful of letters, stamped sealed with melted wax, the recognisable Kim family emblem engraved into it. Taeyong felt a little awkward, having let slip that he’d never sent out any letters because there’ll be no one to receive them anyway. He was thankful when Doyoung didn’t press for more, simply saying that if Taeyong ever needed an owl, he was free to use Doyoung’s trusted Great Grey Owl, Reginald.

Taeyong first falls asleep with his head on Doyoung’s lap while halfway through a scroll on Ancient Runes, tossing it aside only after he’s finished the required section, succumbing to sleep as a reward for his perseverance. Doyoung, in preparation for his O.W.Ls, spent that date with Taeyong’s old set of Herbology notes, memorising properties of tested flora. Doyoung hadn’t asked for them, and it’d only made Taeyong want to share his notes even more, knowing how tedious it could get taking notes in Herbology while dealing with Chinese Chomping Cabbages and several pots of Screechsnaps.

When Doyoung first asks Taeyong if he was going to be spending Christmas in school, it’s the first week of December and Taeyong’d spent the morning dodging yet another barrage of questions from Taeil _and_ Youngho,

 

“I can’t believe Youngho knows and I don’t, honestly,” Taeil says over breakfast, porridge forgotten in favour of interrogating Taeyong about the mysterious parcels he still received from Youngho (through Sehun) in the mornings.

“It’s not like I have a choice…” Taeyong grumbles in annoyance when he loses the line he’s reading on his Transfiguration notes, preparing himself for a test that he’s sure Professor Hwang was going to spring on them.

Though they were spending a lot more time together (nearly every day, including weekends), Doyoung still insisted on baking cookies for Taeyong, trying out different combinations every time.

With the rush of midterms and mid-point check for many of his classes, Taeyong had told Doyoung that he would be too tired to meet in the kitchens at night, but it was met with a reassuring smile that Doyoung _wanted_ to stay and bake more.

Taeyong was getting worried about having Doyoung spend such late nights in the kitchens. It was for his benefit, yes, but he didn’t want Doyoung wasting time over little things.

It was a little scary, how _fast_ Taeyong was catching up.

This _thing_ between them, kisses and touches and jokes and promises, it was something that was quickly becoming a part of Taeyong that he so greatly treasured. There’s only been friends the moment he accepted his life magic into his life, and this was the first there was someone past just that.

Taeil’s always saying that Taeyong’s got armoured walls around him, that he doesn’t trust easy, and given his history with his family, it wasn’t anything out of place. But Doyoung’s managed to so _easily_ have Taeyong trust in him, let Taeyong hold nothing back whenever and whatever they’re talking about, letting his guard down even in the shortest of times they’ve spent together.  

“Morning guys,” Youngho, right on cue, arrives before Taeil can question more. Taeyong takes the moment to breathe, knowing Taeil’s tendency to shy away whenever the bumbling Head Boy hovered around them. He hands the lunchbox napkin to Taeyong, a slight raise of his brows when Taeyong reaches for it, “Sehun says he’s going to start charging you if you guys keep this up.”

“Thanks,” Taeyong mutters, leaving the fresh batch of cookies by his side, away from Taeil’s prying eyes. “Tell Sehun I’ll have my Transfiguration notes duplicated for him. As promised.”

Youngho stretches past Taeil for a bread roll, and Taeyong near combusts at the sight of the blush immediately creeping up Taeil’s cheeks, “What about me?”

They share a loaded look when Taeil turns away, suddenly interested in the teachers’ table up on the podium. Youngho grins knowingly at Taeyong, who narrows his eyes, scoffing, “You get to hang out with Taeil.”

“I’ll take it,” Youngho is so blatant and sincere about his feelings about Taeil, Taeyong almost feels bad for him. “By the way, Sehun says,” he punctuates by bumping into Taeil, apologising with an act of false pretence, “He says to ask whoever it is to stop sending it directly to his room.”

Taeyong wonders what on earth Doyoung has been _doing_.

“It’s really starting to freak everyone out. Says Im Jaebum’s going to hex him if he sees it floating on the edge of their beds again.”

Taeil perks up at that, “Wait, you don’t know who it’s from?”

Taeyong smacks his lips, “Guys, it’s – ”

“No,” Youngho shakes his head, biting into his toast. “I thought you knew?”

Taeyong packs his things immediately, wand in hand. He was going to have to see Taeil again in Charms for first period, but he didn’t need to have this conversation right now, “I’ll see you guys later.”

Just as he rounds the first corner from the Great Hall, a paper plane flutters right in front of his nose, nearly causing him to trip over his own feet.

_Weather’s too cold today for the lake… Kitchens at 3?_

The little heart at the end of the question subdues the urge to chew Doyoung out for tying Youngho and Sehun of all people into… whatever it was they were doing.

 _Okay_ , he spells back, sending the paper plane zipping back into the Great Hall.

 

“Do you think anyone’s going to come in here?” Taeyong pulls away from their kiss to ask, tittering at the edge of the kitchen bench as he leans to kiss Doyoung once more before the other answers.

It’s nearly four, according to the analogue clock hanging on the wall, and Taeyong’s unashamed to admit that they’ve been doing a lot more talking and kissing than studying in the past hour. He has yet to bring up what Youngho had told him earlier that day, lips busy with more important things.

“I don’t really know,” Doyoung circles hand around Taeyong’s wrist, keeping him close. “I’m not really thinking about that right now.”

Taeyong stands, Potions’ essay cast aside, stepping into the space Doyoung’s freed up for him. Winding his arms around Doyoung’s neck, he asks between kisses, “And – what are you thinking about?”

“Kissing you,” Doyoung grins wickedly, tilting upwards to kiss Taeyong sweet.

It’s a lot warmer in the kitchen than it is outside by the lake, but Taeyong’s sure that’s not why his skin is on fire. Doyoung’s tongue delves past Taeyong’s lips at the grant of access, and he relishes in the way Doyoung nearly lifts himself off his seat, eager to taste him more. Taeyong licks back, holding Doyoung down while he sucks on his tongue, tasting the hint of peppermint from when he’d taste-tested the batch of cookies currently in the oven.

Soon enough, Taeyong tires from standing, choosing instead to settle smoothly into Doyoung’s lap. Doyoung manoeuvres to rest Taeyong between his chest and the table, hand resting where it would’ve dug into Taeyong’s back, making it a lot easier for Taeyong to lean back and bare his neck for Doyoung to pepper kisses with.

It’s the first they’ve gotten this close, the Great Lake always too public for anything more than just making out.

Taeyong stifles a moan when Doyoung’s free hand dips past the hem of his sweater, fingers cold against his torso. It doesn’t stop him from arching into the touch. He nudges at the collar of Taeyong’s sweater, pushing it down with his chin to suck lightly on the spot just under his collarbone. Taeyong tugs at Doyoung’s hair, making soft noises of encouragement when Doyoung takes the hint, sucking hard for a good few seconds. Taeyong whimpers at the pleasure that rolls through him.

What’s left is a red-purple love bite, a stark contrast against his skin.

Taeyong cups Doyoung’s cheeks, leading him upwards, seeking that the attention returns to his lips. Doyoung obliges, groaning weakly when Taeyong rewards with an open-mouthed kiss, breathing in every single one of Taeyong’s hot and heavy exhales.

“You taste good,” Doyoung mumbles, moving to press kisses into Taeyong’s neck.

“You’re not _too_ bad,” Taeyong laughs, short of breath.

“I take it back,” Doyoung huffs hotly on Taeyong’s collar. “You’re mean.”

“So are you,” Taeyong says without venom, swallowing a moan when Doyoung kisses a line up his jaw towards his ear, leaving not one patch of skin untouched.

Honestly, Taeyong doesn’t know how hears it, but he does thanks to his heightened senses: the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen. Without thinking, he spells himself invisible, forgetting that he’s never told Doyoung of his tendency to do so.

“Wha – ” Doyoung reels, eyes growing so wide that it’d be comical if the kitchen doors weren’t open in that same second. His head snaps so quick towards the two boys in Gryffindor cloaks standing by the entrance, face contorting into pure confusion when he turns back to Taeyong, seeing nothing, but _feeling_ the weight of him still on his lap.

“Hey,” one of them says, chestnut brown hair flopping as he saunters in, the other with bright red hair following in tow. “What’re you doing in here?”

Doyoung gulps, trying to look back at Taeyong sitting in his lap, frowning when he’s met with nothing, “Uh, I – I was just hungry.”

“As are we,” the boy says, motioning at the other, “This is Mingyu, one of the Gryffindor Chasers.” The unnamed boy points at Doyoung, “This is Gongmyung’s younger brother, Doyoung.’

Taeyong panics when Mingyu exclaims in surprise, bumbling over with an outstretched hand, intending for a handshake. He tries to climb off of Doyoung, but the Slytherin holds him down, equally shocked by his actions when he feels Taeyong freeze under him.

Thankfully, Doyoung’s arm is long enough for them to exchange greetings at a distance away, and Taeyong carefully hooks his legs around Doyoung’s waist so that Mingyu wouldn’t unwittingly bump into him.

That seems to startle Doyoung, causing him to stutter midway through explaining how his brother was currently training with the regional team back in their hometown.

“That’s awesome,” Mingyu beams. “Jaehyun and I are always talking about playing regionals after the school, but it would suck to play against one another.”

“Ha, _yes_ , I suppose,” Doyoung says awkwardly, folding his arms across his chest. He must’ve figured what was going on, realising that if he were to rest his hands on Taeyong’s thighs, it’d look like they were floating mid-air.

“Anyway, we’ll be out of here in a second,” Jaehyun interjects, moving past them towards the hot foods station, requesting for twenty bowls of ramyeon, complete with pork slices and bamboo shoots. “Captain Seo has us ordering these for the team and Captain Oh,” he explains without Doyoung having to ask. The noodles and broth cook themselves quickly, pouring cleanly into twenty containers. “Also,” he Charms to levitate them by his side when they’re done, walking back to them and letting Mingyu take charge of half the order. “Yuta’s going to be in the Gryffindor Common Room later to study, want to come with?”

“Er,” Doyoung stretches with a fake yawn, hands brushing against Taeyong’s shoulders as he does. “Not really, I – I think I’ll just stay here for a while more.”

Jaehyun shrugs, “Alright, I’ll tell him you said hi.”

“Thanks,” Doyoung says as the duo turn to leave, waving goodbye once more before the door shuts lightly. The frantic expression is back on Doyoung’s face, and Taeyong lets himself smile, now that they’re alone again. “Oh my god, what is happening?” Doyoung mutters, reaching forward and gasping when he feels Taeyong’s chest under his palm. Having fun, Taeyong stays mum, watching silently as Doyoung pats around, feeling his shoulders and arms. “Taeyong?” He whispers, trailing his hands down to Taeyong’s thighs. “Hey,” Doyoung gripes, trying to reach for Taeyong’s cheek, but they land in his hair instead. He does well, ghosting them down towards Taeyong’s actual cheeks, and with that, having a rough gauge to where his eyes would be. “Hey, come back.”

Taeyong caves, letting the magic go and appearing visible again with a laugh. Doyoung takes another deep breath.

“What _was_ that?” Doyoung asks, eyes searching Taeyong’s face frantically, seeing it again. “What did you do?”

“Just an invisibility spell,” Taeyong grins, leaning forward to kiss Doyoung’s frown away. “I heard someone coming, and I panicked,” he sits up as Doyoung continues to pat him all over, as if unsure if he was going to turn invisible again, “Did I scare you?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Doyoung blinks. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Whenever I need to,” Taeyong says kindly, remembering that it’s the first someone’s ever seen him and his little trick.

“That felt really strange,” Doyoung says slowly, hugging Taeyong by the waist. “Not seeing you so suddenly.”

Taeyong is smitten at the thought, “Well, I’m still here.”

Doyoung looks as if he isn’t quite confident believing in that, so Taeyong kisses him again, pressing their bodies flush until he feels Doyoung relax in his arms. Warm, Taeyong entertains in hugging Doyoung close until the thought of seeing the two Gryffindor Chasers from earlier reminds him of the message he was tasked to convey,

“I heard from Youngho that your morning deliveries are giving Sehun’s roommates a fright,” he starts, picking at a stray yarn from Doyoung’s pullover.

“Really?” Doyoung has his face buried in Taeyong’s chest, words mushed when he speaks.

“You don’t have to bake me cookies anymore, you know that, right?” Taeyong says, concerned that Doyoung was going to stretch himself too thin. Even Youngho’s been looking a little more frazzled lately, what with the school year snowballing, as it always does this time of the year. It should be even more so for Doyoung, considering he had O.W.Ls to take, and was planning on joining the Slytherin Quidditch team during Chaser trials next week.

Doyoung jerks away, “Why not?”

“I don’t want you to waste time baking when – ”

“I’m not wasting my time,” Doyoung is always stubborn. “I like baking for you, don’t you like them?”

“Of course, I do,” Taeyong pauses, kissing Doyoung to sooth the growing tension between them. Doyoung cares for him so much, Taeyong feels underserving of it. “I’m just worried you might be tired… What am I going to do if you fall off your broom during try-outs because you’ve been staying up baking cookies when you should’ve been sleeping?”

At the mention of try-outs, Doyoung glowers. Taeyong feels a little bad bringing it up, knowing how much the boy worried over getting onto the team. There was only one spot left for a Chaser to join them, and no matter how many times Taeyong’s assured Doyoung that he _will_ play well, the worry is engraved in his mind.

“Think about it, hm?” Taeyong presses a kiss to Doyoung’s forehead, chaste. “Wouldn’t you be worried if I weren’t getting enough sleep?”

Doyoung grouses at the analogy, “Yes.”

“I’ll come watch you during your try-outs too, okay? Moral support?”

Doyoung brightens, “Deal.” He grins, “And, if I fall off my broom then, you’ll be there to catch me.”

Taeyong snorts, “With my super powers? Sure.”

Doyoung makes a face, turning serious at that, hesitating, “Actually, I was wondering…” Taeyong threads his fingers through Doyoung’s hair, nodding for him to continue. “If you were going to stay here for Christmas, why don’t you come home with me?”

Taeyong remembers mention it briefly a week or so ago, when Professor Yoon was starting to take the names of students staying in the castle for Christmas holidays.

 _Home?_ Taeyong frets, a sudden whirlwind of thoughts overwhelming him. Following Doyoung home, meeting his family, his brother, his _parents_. At some point, if they _were_ serious about their relationship, Taeyong meeting Doyoung’s family was an event bound to happen.

 _It’s just that…_ Taeyong looks to the ground, incapable of thinking when Doyoung’s staring so anxiously at him, waiting for an answer.

“I’ll think about it,” he feels apologetic when Doyoung’s face falls, but he won’t make promises he can’t keep. Taeyong grabs him by the cheeks, kissing him with emotion he can’t yet seem to form into words. Doyoung indulges until they’re out of breath, and Taeyong doesn’t pull back, keeping so close that their noses brush with every inhale.

“Okay,” Doyoung bares a tight smile, eyes wistful.

 

x

 

The sun rises too quickly for Taeyong’s liking.

He’d spent the night thinking, pressing his fingers against the mark Doyoung’s left on him, resulting in under an hour’s worth of shut-eye. Skipping breakfast in the Great Hall, he has Taeil bring toast for him before he’s set to leave for Hogsmeade with Youngho.

Taeil tries to get him to talk about what’s obviously bothering him, but Taeyong shakes his head at the offer to confide in his best friend, sending him out of the Common Room, lest he’s late for his special date with Youngho.

The Hufflepuff Basement is mostly empty on Hogsmeade weekends, seeing as how everyone’s taken the chance to bask in the freedom that is not often given. There are a few students remaining, but thankfully none of them are comfortably familiar with Taeyong. He takes the chance to tuck himself in a comfy corner under a circular window, sunlight bleeding warmly into the space around him.

With only silence around him, Taeyong absent-mindedly picks at the piece of toast, reluctantly opening the can of worms in his mind.

Truthfully speaking, he didn’t want to meet Doyoung’s parents. It was too much too soon, and there was no way of saying it without sounding like he didn’t want _Doyoung_ , which was completely absurd. Taeyong wanted Doyoung, as his boyfriend, as his future, possibly. Nothing in him fought that, doubted that. In thought, that was easy to admit. With actions, it was going to be tougher to carry through with.

Theoretically speaking, if Doyoung’d asked him today whether or not they’ll be able to spend forever together, the answer wouldn’t be a no, but he wasn’t asking that, right?

Forever meant families, and family has always been a sensitive topic to Taeyong, one that he has yet to come clean to Doyoung about. He knows he shouldn’t be placing his parents’ attributes under Doyoung’s tab, but he can’t help when it just comes subconsciously.

For all he knows, Doyoung’s parents could be the nicest people he’s set to meet, ruined by the memories of being left by his very own.

Sick at the mere thought of it, Taeyong finishes the piece of toast, burying himself into his Astronomy textbook, rewriting his notes as he goes, resolute at clearing his mind of unwanted reminders. It doesn’t take long for him to get distracted again, filling out only four star-charts on his parchment paper when a familiar voice floods the vacant basement,

“I see him, he’s right there. Thanks, Jisoo.”

Taeyong gawks when Doyoung wastes no time to hurry over to him, carrying a green and pink paper bag in his hand. He slows down when he approaches, as though waiting for Taeyong to send him away.

“Hi,” Taeyong notes that the bag is from Honeydukes. He recalls Taeil mentioning Cauldron Cakes. Doyoung doesn’t say anything, so he prods, “That for me?”

Doyoung nods, gingerly sinking into the overstuffed chair on Taeyong’s left, holding the bag out like a peace-offering.

“Thanks,” he takes it first, then pulls Doyoung by the wrist to have him lean in, kissing him softly on the lips. It wasn’t a fight, but it sure felt like one. Doyoung returns the kiss after what seems like an initial shock, sighing into it before breaking apart. “Do you want a piece?” Taeyong asks, already conjuring two ceramic plates with a snap.

“Sure.”

Taeyong plates one for himself, another for Doyoung. They take the first few bites silently, not speaking nor looking the other in the eye, and Taeyong’s sure he’s going to be the first to speak until Doyoung does, a rush of words,

“I didn’t mean to pressure you into coming home with me for Christmas or anything, really, I know that you – you need some time with all this between us, and I just thought that I’d ask, y’know? Since we’re – ” Doyoung breathes, “Together.”

The joy in his heart is overwhelming.

Doyoung is holding onto the Cauldron Cake so tightly that it’s starting to crumble, “And I know you said you wanted to think about it which is totally, _totally_ okay with me, I just – ” oh, Taeyong’s heart, “It didn’t feel right, how we left things off yesterday, and I ran into Taeil and he said you weren’t feeling well, and I got worried, so I… I just came here.”

“I wanted to make sure I didn’t scare you off or anything,” Doyoung’s laugh is short of mirth. Taeyong’s heart constricts when he hits the bull’s eye. “I just meant for you to come have dinner with us, and I don’t know – we don’t get to spend a lot of time alone together here,” the Cauldron Cake crumbles and Taeyong wordlessly spells it back together before Doyoung can get distracted, “But I’ll understand… if you don’t want to.”

Taeyong doesn’t know if his heart is growing ten times bigger or if it’s shrivelled to a raisin. He wanted to follow Doyoung back, he really did. But what did it _mean_? It seemed a lot like placing things in concrete, and with that, the possibility of leaving a deeper scar if things were to fall apart. Doyoung’s starting to rank higher in his heart than any of his family members, and Taeyong wouldn’t know what to do if anything were to happen.

But Doyoung’s saying that it’s not a big deal, right? Taeyong knows that he isn’t pushing forth a ring and velvet box, and there’s always a first time for everything, and it wasn’t like he didn’t want more… If he was already feeling this way, Doyoung must be feeling worse, and, oh,

Taeyong is so terribly _weak_ for Doyoung,

 “Okay,” Taeyong says, taking Doyoung’s plate away from him and resting both of theirs on the table to take Doyoung’s hands in his, cold from the wintry air outside. Doyoung looks at him carefully. He nods, “I’ll follow you home for the holidays.”

Doyoung balks, “Really? Because I don’t want to force – ”

“I want to,” Taeyong says as convincingly as he can, for both his own and Doyoung’s benefit. “It’s been a while since I’ve left the castle for the holidays,” fourth year to Taeil’s hometown, “I think it’ll be fun.”

“What about your family?” Doyoung says slowly, and Taeyong appreciates the attentiveness.

How should he explain that the only thing he hears from his parents over Christmas holidays is a fifty-dollar bill that comes in a white envelope with no note, no well-wishes? Or that he hasn’t seen any of them in the flesh ever since he’d left home for Hogwarts six years ago? Or that Taeyong’s practically homeless after his seventh year? That he had no home to return to once school was over?

It’s been discussed several times with Taeil, ending in a lot of tears from both of them, Taeil huddling Taeyong close, unable to help but feel pity for his best friend. Taeil’s parents were very sympathetic when they’d heard about Taeyong’s situation that one time he went over during Easter break, and generously offered to house Taeyong while he acclimatised to the Wizarding World.

It’s the leading reason Taeyong’s working so hard, studying so furiously to ace everything that’s given to him. If he was going to have to survive on his own, he was going to have to arm himself with the best credentials he can get.

“They’re, uh – ”

Taeyong hears the knocking of the barrels outside the Hufflepuff Basement, and he reaches for his wand on instinct.

He hears Taeil before he sees him, “Taeyong!”

Distressed, he spells Doyoung invisible.

The relief is instant when he realises that the spell worked. Never having tried it on anyone but himself, Taeyong had doubts on whether or not his magic was strong enough for him to cast it. Despite the sudden turn of events, Doyoung handles it well, maintaining silence when Taeil catches sight of Taeyong.

“What are you doing back here?” Taeyong edges his foot forward, stopping only when he feels the rubber of Doyoung’s sneakers.

It _did_ feel odd, being on this side of the spell, not being able to see Doyoung but yet smelling the scent of apple pie and hearing the shallow breaths he was taking.

Taeil lets the door shut itself behind him, crossing the lounge area to get to Taeyong, “Did you meet that Yuta guy?”

Doyoung makes a quiet noise. Taeyong steps on his foot.

“He said he was going to buy you Cauldron Cakes? What was that about?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong lies. “Yeah, I met him. Thanks.”

“Were you studying?” Taeil jerks his chin at the notes and textbooks Taeyong’d sprawled across the table and floors. He didn’t get much done, but he _was_ studying.

Afraid Taeil might take the seat next to him, where Doyoung is, Taeyong stands to meet Taeil instead. His magic nearly slips when his legs brush against Doyoung’s knees, but he rights himself, “Yeah. What are you doing back so early?”

Taeil had been so excited about going to Hogsmeade with Youngho, but the look in his eye is a little unsettling, “You wouldn’t _believe_ what Youngho did, Taeyong, he – ”

Doyoung’s foot comes into contact with the back of Taeyong’s knees lightly, reminding him that he was still _there_ , listening, making Taeyong jump nearly a foot into the air, “No, no!”

“What?” Taeil glances over his shoulder, then over Taeyong’s. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Er,” Taeyong blinks. “We can’t talk about this here.”

Just as he’s about to shoo Taeil away, Taeyong hears Doyoung shift in his seat, and Taeil’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, “What? Taeyong,” he shakes his head, as if he thought he was dreaming, “What’s going on?”

Huffing, Taeyong ushers Taeil out of the basement, promising that he wasn’t going to want to talk about it _here_. Taeil’s resistance is no match for Taeyong’s will to not have to explain Doyoung’s presence, and he promises the boy that they can talk about it tomorrow.

When Taeil is successfully escorted out of the Common Room, Taeyong turns to immediately lift the invisibility spell off of Doyoung, breaking into a wry smile when he sees Doyoung with his knees tucked adorably to his chest, trying to take up as little space as possible.

“Sorry,” Doyoung laughs, skittish. “I didn’t know if he was going to walk by me, I didn’t want him bumping into my knees.”

“No, it was my fault,” Taeyong hums, walking back to their spot and sinking into his seat. “I panicked, and I didn’t know if you wanted Taeil to, y’know,” he shrugs, “See you in here.”

Doyoung takes a considerable amount of time to answer, “It wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

“Okay,” Taeyong smiles. The only reason they were still keeping this under wraps was because there hadn’t been anything to tell, but now, with Doyoung grinning back at him, it might be a different situation entirely. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I cast you invisible.”

Doyoung doesn’t say anything to that, instead, “Are you – are you sure you’re okay with coming home with me?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong nods, dipping forward to kiss Doyoung, smiling. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Really?” Doyoung catches him like a snake with a canary. He doesn’t let up, keeping his gaze with Taeyong’s. “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

Taeyong nearly does. Nearly admits how he’ll never have an explanation for the confusing twinge of jealousy he gets whenever Doyoung mentions his childhood stories and loving parents. Nearly admits how he doesn’t feel deserving of Doyoung’s love, not when he’s been lacking the taste of any sort of it for the past six years. Nearly admits how he longs for it too, for someone to return to, to feel at home with, and while he wants Doyoung to be the one, he’s afraid things will fall apart just as quickly as it’d piled up.

When exactly did the tables turn?

When did Doyoung weasel his way so far into Taeyong’s life that he couldn’t stop the boy from burrowing through his defences? When did Doyoung become the place of comfort for Taeyong, the space between them growing so narrow that it was starting to seem like there wasn’t much space between to begin with? When did Doyoung become so _real_ , so tangible under his hands?

 “I know,” Taeyong does, he really does, but doesn’t admit to anything, not even when Doyoung waits for more.

It wasn’t lying if he didn’t say anything.

 

x

 

By the time the weekend is over, the news of Taeil and Youngho’s relationship goes public and it spreads like a wildfire. Through the Great Hall, across the Courtyard, around the Common Rooms, Taeyong hears of it from Yunhyeong before Taeil gets to tell him personally. Youngho didn’t hold back in announcing to everyone he knew of his new boyfriend, and Taeyong’s surprised to find that Taeil is perfectly fine with it, sans the blush that seems to be permanent on his cheeks now.

The kisses Youngho gives Taeil are unabashed, and the ones in return are the same. They’re all over each other, breakfast, lunch, dinner, in classes, between classes, whenever they can get a hold on the other. Taeyong feels a little bit jealous, he wasn’t going to lie, but the holidays were in a week or so, and he’ll then have time to spend with Doyoung.

“Want to come with?” Taeil asks when Sehun drops by their table Saturday morning, inviting Youngho (and by relation, Taeil) to watch the Slytherin Quidditch Team try-outs.

“Sure,” Taeyong smiles weakly, relieved that he didn’t have to come up with a lie to join them, having racked his brain the entire morning, trying to figure out if the invisibility spell was going to hold for so long.

He trails several paces behind the new couple as Youngho leads them down to the Quidditch Pitch, arm slung around Taeil’s shoulders, leaning forward ever so often to whisper into Taeil’s ear, making him squeal.

Taeyong groans inwardly; he wanted to do that with Doyoung too.

The stands are _freezing_ , and Taeyong casts a Hot-Air Charm on his hands and feet, sitting a little away from Taeil and Youngho, cuddled together sickeningly sweet. A troop of Slytherins appear on the pitch then, decked out in winter gear, all carrying sleek, black brooms. Taeyong spots Doyoung easily by the colour of his hair, sitting up when the boy turns on his feet to look at the spectators on the stands.

Taeyong lifts his hand up to wave, just a tiny motion, but it’s enough for Doyoung to beam brightly back at him.

Sehun begins the try-outs then, kicking off the ground and zooming over to Youngho, pointing at the players hovering mid-air above the middle of the pitch. A strong gust of wind blows by, and even while seated, Taeyong loses his balance.

Worried, Taeyong mutters a series of Protective Enchantments, sending them Doyoung’s way with full concentration as he tries his best to make sure the boy wouldn’t fall off his broom.

“I don’t know how you did it, but I’ve been trying to get him to play on the school team for _years._ ”

Taeyong stops his incantations, glancing up to see Yuta sitting down beside him, blue beanie snug on his head, Gryffindor scarf around his neck.

“What?”

“Just seems awfully coincidental,” Yuta pulls out his wand to Hot-Air Charm them once more. Taeyong mutters a quiet _thanks_ , his previous spell already wearing off. The weather was getting worse with every passing day, and Taeyong’s had enough experience to know that it was always harder to fly in the snow. “Doyoung trying out for the team only after he spoke to you about it.”

“Really?” Taeyong mumbles, finding Doyoung in the air again, waiting idly as Sehun tests several first-years foolishly brave to face the giant seventh years (terrifying, even to Taeyong).

“Mm,” Yuta sighs, resting his arms against the wooden railings, equally interested in the trials. “Says you made him change his mind.”

Doyoung swoops to catch the Quaffle when a first year misses Sehun’s brutal aim, ducking instead of moving to catch it.

Taeyong sniffles, the air freezing his cheeks up, “I didn’t really say much.”

Yuta whistles loudly when Doyoung tosses the Quaffle back to Sehun, earning himself an annoyed glare. Doyoung’s eyes widen when he sees Yuta beside Taeyong, but at Taeyong’s smile, he turns back to the game, sitting straighter on his broom.

“Guess love does more than the eye can see, huh?” Yuta shrugs.

 _Love?_ Taeyong feels himself drain of blood. “What?”

Yuta glances at Taeyong from the corner of his eye, “I just mean that you do more for him than you think.”

“Oh.” Taeyong barks out an awkward laugh. It goes unnoticed by Yuta, busy watching Doyoung catch loose Quaffles while Sehun thwarts them one after the other without holding back. “I mean,” Taeyong clears his throat, embarrassed all of a sudden. “He means a lot to me too.”

“Really? Does he know that?”

Oh? _Oh._

Did Doyoung set Yuta up to this?

Yuta is nonchalant, smug, maybe, when Taeyong asks if that was the case.

“Yes,” he snorts. “Told him you were too smart to fall for such a trick, but he bugged me to do it. So, there.”

Taeyong’s gut twists at that.

Why did Doyoung have to ask someone else to figure things out between them? Shouldn’t he know how invested Taeyong is in their relationship now? The little holiday incident aside, aren’t the kisses, the touches, the words obvious enough?

“Thanks, I guess,” Taeyong manages stiffly.

They fall silent, watching as try-outs continued without any (serious) accidents. Moving to the next segment of the tiral, Sehun has a Beater (his jersey reads Im Jaebum) sending Bludgers towards the players vying for the final Chaser spot while they tossed the Quaffle like a hot potato.

Seeing Doyoung flip over on his broom while skilfully dodging Buldgers has Taeyong gripping the bench under him hard. He was sure holes were going to be dug into his gloves. His heart rams against his ribcage when Doyoung nearly tips forward from flying too fast, and it causes an uprising when Doyoung flies too close to one of the watch towers, the back of his broom hitting the stone walls.

Taeyong has never felt worry like this.

Though Sehun manages to block every single shot through all three hoops, the time for try-outs is cut short when a Bludger hits a third year on the back of his head, causing him to fall off his broom. If it weren’t for fifth year Seeker Minatozaki Sana grabbing him by the ankle, he would’ve hit the ground hard.

Yuta leaves without saying goodbye, and Taeyong doesn’t see him even when they’re all huddled back in the castle. Taeil keeps himself pressed to Youngho as they wait by the Quidditch Gate for Sehun (and Doyoung).

“Did you pick someone?” Youngho asks when Sehun emerges from the grounds, shaking snow out of his hair. He nods, looking over his shoulder as the players from today’s trials chatter noisily, pausing when they notice Sehun watching them, hoping to be called, only to have their captain wave them away dismissively.

“Thinking the kid with the orange hair?”

Taeyong clamps his mouth shut, but his heart shoots out of his chest.

“Yeah,” Sehun folds his arms across his chest. “Did you see his last shot? That was a good one.”

Youngho nods agreeably, tone teasing when he adds, “Well, we’ll see if he can dodge Chungha’s Bludgers, eh?”

Taeyong’s heartbeat quickens when he sees Doyoung swiping at the snow on his shoulders, Yuta already by his side, wringing his hands between them, a frown evident on his face. Sehun calls for Doyoung to come over (“Hey, orange!”), and Doyoung’s eyes widen, but only because he sees Taeyong waiting there too.

“You’re in,” Sehun says without much emotion, clapping Doyoung hard on the back. “Practice timings will be on the bulletin board. Our first Chaser Im Nayeon will teach you our current plays, so remember to find her in the Common Room tonight.”

“Okay,” Doyoung gulps, smiling nervously, snowflakes still clinging onto his hair. His lips are pale and chapped; Taeyong wants to kiss them warm. “I – thank you!”

Sehun sniffs, taking his leave, stretching his limbs out with a groan as he retreats into the castle, calling for Youngho to join them for dinner later. The rest of the team leave as well, and only five remain.

Hesitant, Taeyong looks at Doyoung, hoping the boy would be able to read his thoughts, and he breathes a sigh relief when Doyoung nods excitedly, opening his arms up for Taeyong to rush into.

“I knew you could do it!” Taeyong gushes, flinging his arms around Doyoung’s neck, not caring that Taeil and Youngho were still around to watch. “It was so cold, I was so worried!”

Doyoung hugs him back tightly, and Taeyong, at the touch of Doyoung’s ice cold fingers, silently casts another Hot-Air Charm.

“You encouraged me to go through with it,” he says quietly, and Taeyong feels the jab of Doyoung’s chin over his shoulder.

Overwhelmed, he untangles from Doyoung enough to kiss him enthusiastically, showing such affection in front of their friends for the first time. Doyoung’s smile grows against Taeyong’s lips, and it only makes the Hufflepuff giggle gleefully, pulling apart with a loud sigh.

“Uh, Taeyong?” Taeil coughs awkwardly. Taeyong spins on his heels, Doyoung’s arm still around his waist when he does. “Care to introduce us to…”

“Doyoung,” Taeyong beams, pride filling is his heart full. “My boyfriend.”

 _If this isn’t a billboard sign with flashing neon lights, I don’t know what will be._ Taeyong bites on his lip when Doyoung’s fingers dig hard into his hip, giving him a squeeze.

“‘Boyfriend’?” Taeil’s jaw drops, flabbergasted. “You never mentioned having a _boyfriend_!”

Taeyong shrugs, enjoying Doyoung’s arm tight around him, “I just wanted to keep him to myself for a while.”

“And at that,” Yuta pipes up, clapping his hands loudly. “I’ll be heading off now, lovebirds. See you later, Kim.”

“We should go too,” Youngho has a devilish grin on his face, but Taeyong’s too focused on Doyoung’s warmth around him to care.

“You’ll tell me all about this later, right?” Taeil is sullen, a shallow look of hurt flashing across his face at the thought of Taeyong keeping secrets (it’s a Hufflepuff thing, Taeyong figures), letting Youngho pull him down the hallway only when Taeyong nods affirmatively.

Doyoung’s lips are back on Taeyong’s when the couple turns the corner, kissing Taeyong hotly until they’re warming up, tugging on each other’s lips, licking at each other’s tongues. Taeyong breaks the kiss when he feels himself get lightheaded, reaching up to caress Doyoung’s cheek fondly.

“That was new?” Doyoung says lowly, kissing Taeyong quick once more.

“I want you to know how much you mean to me,” Taeyong gives him another. “I don’t think I’ve been very good at expressing myself if you’re still worried about that.”

Doyoung catches it, “I was just… unsure.” Taeyong urges him to explain, “After the bit about spending the holidays together.”

Taeyong wants to retract his hesitation, take it all away and throw it out the proverbial window because _this_ is what matters. _People who matter_ , Taeil’s words. Doyoung mattered, and if Taeyong was speaking from the heart, Doyoung might matter the most. Spending nearly every day together, Doyoung’s so effortlessly made himself a home in Taeyong’s life, his heart.

It was going to be terrifying, stepping into Doyoung’s life filled with pleasant childhood memories and loving relationships that Taeyong has only spent years dreaming for. He didn’t know what to expect, what to do, how to act.

“I’m excited to spend the holidays with you, Doyoung,” he hopes the sincerity in his voice carries through. Taeyong inhales deeply, “I – my family, they – ” Doyoung is patient, hands comforting on Taeyong’s waist, “I’m just worried.”

Doyoung blinks, “What about?”

“I don’t know,” Taeyong says honestly, thoughts a blur, chest constricting at the mess of it, the difficulty of sorting his thoughts out and translating them into words for Doyoung. He’d thought he’d gotten a hold of it earlier, why was it so complex to tear through now?

“It’s okay,” Doyoung kisses him, pushing Taeyong gently against the stone wall to press their bodies together, soaking Taeyong in compassion and the smell of winter and apples.

 _So sweetly, terribly kind,_ Taeyong thinks guiltily, ever so briefly wondering if he merited such _love_.

“Can you tell me what you’re most worried about?”

Taeyong stares blankly at into Doyoung’s eyes. He whispers, “I’m afraid something bad’s going to happen.”

Doyoung accepts that, “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Taeyong answers helplessly. Bad luck followed whenever there was talk of family, that he knew. “What if your family doesn’t like me?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Doyoung probes, lovingly brushing his thumb against Taeyong’s cheek. “ _I_ like you.”

Taeyong shakes his head, “What if they think – ” he stops shudder from rolling up his spine. “What if they think I’m not good enough for you?”

There it is.

Doyoung stuns, brows furrowing together, “They’re not going to think that at all, Taeyong, what? Do _you_ think that?”

“No,” Taeyong lies. He didn’t want to see Doyoung anxious about things that can’t be helped. Taeyong’s rationale was easy to comprehend: if his own family didn’t love him, didn’t deem him good enough to be kept in their lives, why would Doyoung?

It wasn’t easy to understand.

Doyoung rewards him with a kiss he doesn’t deserve, kissing him until there aren’t any thoughts left in his muddled mind, reducing him to nothing. Taeyong pushes back, biting on Doyoung’s lip and gasping when he feels Doyoung wince.

 _This is real_ , he licks to sooth the sting, _This is real_.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Doyoung asks when Taeyong finally moves away.

There’s a flurry of blonde in Taeyong’s sight, but it’s forgotten when Doyoung kisses him again. “If this is about Christmas, we don’t have to tell my parents anything, I – ”

“Let’s just get you back to the castle,” Taeyong brings their hands together, casting all thoughts out of his mind to smile up at Doyoung. This is fine. Everything is fine. “Should we head down to Hogsmeade tomorrow? If I’m going to be meeting your parents, I should get them something, right?”

“You don’t have to get them anything,” Doyoung takes the bait. “They’ll only be back Christmas Eve, so you don’t even have to worry about meeting them until then.”

That eases Taeyong, “What will there be to do at your place?”

“I was thinking you could help with that,” Doyoung tips forward to brush his nose against Taeyong’s. “There’s a street of shops near the apartment, but my brother and I have never been.”

 _Apartment?_ “Why not?”

“Mother prefers us inside where we can’t cause trouble,” Doyoung snorts. “But I’ve been taking Muggle Studies, and I’m pretty confident I know most of the Muggle nuances,” he grins. “Thought it’d be fun to at least check it out? Together?”

“Okay,” Taeyong says weakly, thanking the gods that his voice doesn’t falter. Ever since he’s told Doyoung he was a from a Muggle family, the boy’s been asking him questions over questions of the Muggle World, trying to sate his curiosity and fascination. It’s difficult for Taeyong to admit that he doesn’t know much either.

He hasn’t been back in a while.

 

x

 

Taking the Hogwarts Express into the city was enjoyable. They’d miraculously found an empty cabin near the end of the train, and Taeyong’d spent the entire ride with his head on Doyoung’s shoulder, watching the snowy scenery fly by. Several students pass their cabin, curiously peeking in, but Doyoung didn’t care, so neither did Taeyong. They share kisses and words, about how Doyoung always looked forward to Christmas with his family, about how Taeyong never really had anything to look forward to during Christmas.

Instead of pushing, Doyoung promises that they could do whatever Taeyong wanted this Christmas, that he should start thinking of what he wanted to see and eat.

After reaching Central Station, Doyoung’d expertly led him to the rows and rows of fireplaces – the Floo Network. Taeyong was quick to say that he’d never travelled by Floo before, that if Doyoung simply showed him a picture of his living room, he’d be able to Apparate there on his own.

Doyoung wasn’t having any of it, ushering Taeyong quickly into an empty fireplace. It’s a squeeze, two boys and their night bags, pressed chest to chest in the middle of the heatless, emerald flame.

“Elbows together,” Doyoung had said, reaching down to grab a handful of Floo Powder. “Hold onto me tight.” Taeyong narrows his eyes in suspicion, to which Doyoung grins, “Don’t want any mistakes to happen.”

No mistakes do happen.

Doyoung was very clear with his pronunciation, and they’re standing in the Kim Family’s chimney in the next second, covered in soot and heat. It’s a very, very, _very_ large apartment, with two floors and a very exquisite looking chandelier in the middle of the living room.

 

Taeyong is told to make himself at home after Doyoung spells them clean of dirt, picking up their bags as he hurries up to leave them in his room. Intrigued, Taeyong takes a look around; a large family portrait hanging above the couch, Doyoung’s mother in a high-backed chair while both her sons and her husband stand behind her, all of them wearing matching smiles.

There’s a trophy case too, by the stairs, most of them Gongmyung’s. Taeyong smiles when he can only make out two plaques addressed to Doyoung, both of which were purely participation gifts.

When Doyoung returns, he catches Taeyong staring at the rows of family pictures on the bookshelf by the fireplace earlier, most of them taken overseas with different backgrounds, the entire family often clad in matching t-shirts or jackets.

“Those are embarrassing,” Doyoung whines, tugging Taeyong away and towards the couch.

“It’s sweet,” Taeyong laughs softly, plunking himself onto the plush seats. Under the glass coffee table is a photo album, and he reaches for it without thinking, realising half a beat late that it’s one of Doyoung’s childhood photo albums.

It’s adorable, for the most part; baby Doyoung dressed in frills and tiny hats, overalls and rubber shoes. Another part of Taeyong wonders if his own baby pictures were still back home, or if they were burned in efforts to erase him, the only wizard, from their family line.  

Doyoung lets him flip through the album slowly, groaning when they reach a picture of young Doyoung and Gongmyung in a tub, sporting smiles and bubbles of soap on their crowns, “C’mon, let’s go out instead.”

“Oh.” Taeyong didn’t feel like going out. In fact, he felt a little sick. He closes the photo album and leaves it where he found it, “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” They’d eaten enough at Central Station (sandwiches and hotdogs and ice cream and churros; Doyoung might have taken Muggle Studies, but he seemed to lack understanding in Muggle currency). “I thought we could walk the streets tonight… We only have a few days here.”

Taeyong purses his lips, “Could we do that tomorrow? It’s getting a little late… Maybe we should just call it a night?”

Doyoung blinks, studying him watchfully before scooting closer, tangling his fingers into Taeyong’s hair, pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss. Taeyong kisses back, feeling himself free of burden in the moments their lips are together. When Doyoung pulls them apart, Taeyong doesn’t expect to find him looking so _worried_. He opens his mouth to ask what’s the matter when Doyoung says, “Okay. Do you want to shower first? Bathroom’s two doors from mine, can’t miss it.”

Taeyong nods, giving Doyoung another kiss before padding over to clean up.

It’s been a long day of travelling, and Taeyong can’t deny that was just aching to go to bed.

Doyoung takes his shower in his parents’ en suite, but it still gives Taeyong some alone time in Doyoung’s room. With nothing to do, he flops back onto Doyoung’s bed, groaning under his breath, intent on getting some shut eye while waiting. He hears Doyoung return, pausing by the door before shutting it lightly.

“I’m awake,” Taeyong calls with his eyes closed, smiling small when he hears Doyoung laugh,

“Are you sure?” he teases, shuffling over to bump his knees with Taeyong’s.

“Yes,” Taeyong deadpans, but he lets Doyoung pull him up by the arms. “What do you want?” He whines, purposefully latching onto Doyoung like a ragdoll.

“I’m trying to get you under the covers,” Doyoung plants a kiss on his neck, holding Taeyong up with his arms. “But I guess I could let you sleep on the floor too.”

Taeyong squirms, “You’re mean at home too.”

"Yeah, yeah,” Doyoung snorts, successfully pulling the covers free even with Taeyong hanging onto him. “C’mon,” he murmurs, lowering Taeyong down and climbing into bed together. “If this is how you are when you’re tired, I’m really missing out not being your roommate.”

Taeyong laughs, settling down on Doyoung’s pillow, arms still around Doyoung’s neck, “If you think I hold onto just anyone like this, you must be dreaming.”

Doyoung grins, reaching to Taeyong’s waist to pull the covers over them, sticking close, “Do you only hold onto me?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong sighs. It’s so warm under the covers with Doyoung, so comfortable, so _easy_. He loves it. “Only you.”

Doyoung seems satisfied at that, slotting his legs between Taeyong’s, sliding close until their noses brush. Taeyong smiles, thumbing the short hairs on Doyoung’s nape, taking in all of Doyoung’s eyes, nose, cheeks and lips, relaxed and soft and Taeyong thinks he’s going to fall asleep when,

“Do you remember…” Doyoung shifts, resting a hand on Taeyong’s waist, fingers dipping under the hem to trace the skin. “When I told you that you could tell me anything?”

Taeyong nods, not at all liking where this is going, “Do you have anything you want to tell me?”

Doyoung takes a deep breath, “No. Do you?”

 _Yes_. Taeyong pulls his arms away from Doyoung, looking down when he sees Doyoung start to object,

“Taeyong,” he moves to keep Taeyong from turning away, clasping their hands together. Taeyong makes the mistake of abiding, because Doyoung’s lips are on his, kissing the reticence away. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he says, gentle, trusting.

“I’m just concerned,” Doyoung breathes, laying back onto the pillow once he’s sure Taeyong’s not going to pull away again. “You’ve been acting a little… off. Since we got here.”

Taeyong wiggles forward to hug Doyoung, needing something to hold onto.

“I saw you,” Doyoung’s an anchor, wrapping his arms around Taeyong. “When you were looking at my photos. And when I talk about my family, the way you look at me…” His grip is so _tight_ , Taeyong doesn’t know who’s more afraid. “I’ve never asked, I don’t know if you want to tell me or if school was never the place to talk about it, but I’m telling you that you _can_. With me,” Doyoung says into his hair, “If you want to, you can.”

It’s a long moment of silence, of Taeyong breathing in Doyoung’s scent, apples and hair wash, working better than a dose of Calming Draught, of Taeyong going blank, wishing that he didn’t have anything to explain, wishing he had nothing gnawing his heart, _raw_ , whenever he thinks of a future with Doyoung, nothing holding him back from giving as much as Doyoung did.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says, laughing without humour. It sounds dark, so he stops. “My parents… refuse to acknowledge me, that’s all.”

Doyoung doesn’t make a big deal out of it, doesn’t jerk Taeyong away to cry out _What? Why!_ , doesn’t make Taeyong feel like it’s the worst thing in the world to have happened. He just holds Taeyong close, gives him enough time to collect his thoughts and put them into words,

“When I got my letter,” Taeyong clutches onto Doyoung tight, pressing his cheek hard into Doyoung’s chest. He compresses six years of pain into just a few sentences, too focused on getting it over and done with, “They didn’t want anything to do with magic. They don’t keep in contact with me anymore. That’s all there is.”

He wishes Doyoung would say something, anything, _Stop me_ ,

“I might’ve been a little scared coming here. Family, and all that. I just didn’t know what to expect, or how I was going to feel.”

At first, Taeyong thinks Doyoung’s just at a loss of what to say. Then, he feels something wet on the top of his head.

“Are you – are you _crying_?” Taeyong tries to lift himself off of Doyoung to check for himself, but Doyoung’s grip has him immobilised. “Doyoung?”

“Ah,” he sniffles loudly, releasing Taeyong to quickly wipe at his cheeks, laughing unevenly. “Yes, it’s – I – _hah_ , why am I crying? I’m so – ”

Taeyong hangs tight, feeling his jaw tremble at the thought of Doyoung shedding tears for him. Doyoung who’s always smiling and laughing and making jokes and being mean and baking cookies, crying at Taeyong’s expense.

_Terrible._

“I thought that might’ve been it,” Doyoung sniffs, patting Taeyong’s hair. “The time in the Owlery, I wanted to ask you,” he admits, “But I – I wanted to give you space… and time, until you trusted me enough, and – ah, I told myself I wouldn’t cry, I – ” he laughs,

Taeyong shakes his head, “I trust you, Doyoung, it’s just – ”

“No, I get it,” Doyoung rushes to mend his words. “I – no, I won’t know how you feel, never truly, I just wished I knew, before I asked you to come over. We could have stayed in school together.”

Taeyong closes his eyes. Why won’t sleep just take them away?

“You were excited to come back, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You couldn’t ruin anything,” Doyoung is firm. “You’ve no idea how much it means to me, just by being here with me.” He kisses Taeyong’s crown, “And I don’t mean being _here_ here, I mean anywhere. Wherever. Just, you. With me.”

‘ _Does he know that?’_

“That goes both ways, you know?” Taeyong finally looks up to see that Doyoung’s cheeks are still wet. Doyoung grumbles noisily when Taeyong inches to wipe them dry, sighing, “Why’d you cry?”

Then, “Big baby.”

Doyoung stops sniffling, “Big _what_?”

“You heard me,” Taeyong says, taking Doyoung by the cheeks and giving them a squeeze. “You don’t have to feel bad.”

“Don’t worry,” Doyoung’s words are garbled. Taeyong can feel the vibration under his palms. “It’s a little hard to feel bad for you when you just called me a big baby.”

Taeyong laughs, letting Doyoung bury his face into his chest, complaining noisily about how mean Taeyong is for making fun of him, grumbling until there’s nothing left for him to say, drowning them both in silence. Doyoung falls asleep first, breathing evening out and going lax in Taeyong’s arms. Taeyong thanks the higher powers that he’s _finally_ , finally, truly honest with Doyoung, for even if it wasn’t something that Doyoung could fix, talking about it helped lift enough burden off his back, allowing him to breathe easy throughout the night.

For tonight, at least.

 

“Can you _please_ put a hat on?” Taeyong nags, waiting by the door as Doyoung flurries around the living room, flipping cushions as if a beanie would magically appear under there.

“I’m _looking_ for it,” Doyoung says flatly, hurrying over to the coat closet to find nothing of the sort. “Forget it, I can just go without one.”

Taeyong stops him with a gloved hand, “What if your ears get cold?”

“You can warm them up for me,” Doyoung answers cheekily, kissing Taeyong on his earlobe, a tiny patch peeking out from under his beanie. “C’mon, it’s already evening, and I’m _starving_.”

They’d let time escape them, only waking up in the afternoon and deemed themselves too lazy to leave the apartment until Doyoung finally got tired of watching Muggle television programs, magicking for their coats and insistently dragging Taeyong to get changed.

Dinner is a quaint little Italian place just two streets down from said shopping street Doyoung had mentioned, and they share two pastas and a serving of mozzarella sticks (“That’s baby food,” Taeyong had smirked, to which Doyoung was quick to retaliate with, “Then stop eating them, you big baby.”) Doyoung pays for the meal with the credit card his mother’d left in her vanity table for him.

Taeyong feels the fifty-dollar note from his parents weigh heavy in his pocket. Usually, he’d keep them in his old wallet, never having a reason to use Muggle currency, but this Christmas, he wanted to spend it on Doyoung. It was going to be tricky, getting a gift with Doyoung clinging tight to him, even more so now that they’ve gotten several things out of the way.

The shopping street is busy, busier than Madam Puddifoot's on Valentines’ day, which is saying something, considering how the entire school seems to fit into that tiny tea shop. Doyoung holds onto Taeyong tight as they squeeze through the crowd, stopping only to enter little trinket shops that line the street.

“Let’s go in here,” Taeyong says, already pulling Doyoung into a relatively empty shop. It’s warm and filled with yellow light, and it makes Taeyong nostalgic, missing the Hufflepuff Basement. There are wooden knick-knacks showcased on the shelves and an assortment of miscellaneous accessories, but what caught Taeyong’s eyes was the tiny display of necklaces in the corner of the shop. “Wait here,” he tugs his hands free from Doyoung. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, Taeyong – ”

“Oh my _god_ , your hair!” A blonde sales assistant is immediately gushing over Doyoung the moment Taeyong steps away, making it easier for him to peruse the range of silver and gold necklaces without Doyoung breathing down his neck. “Did you dye it yourself?”

“Die?” He hears Doyoung squeak. Taeyong stifles a laugh; Doyoung’s hair was orange from when Yuta was practising a Colour Change Charm, and they’d left it as it is since he was getting so many compliments from it. He tunes their conversation out; Doyoung was smart enough not to let loose any important Wizarding secrets, he’ll be fine.

“Hi! Can I help you?” Another sales assistant is by his side, a polite smile on her face.

“Ah,” Taeyong points at a silver charm in the shape of a whisk, a little larger than the tip of his pinky finger, snug on a black satin cushion. There were other charms (a basketball, a mug, a star), but this one fit Doyoung best, Taeyong thinks. “Uh, how much is this?”

“It’s thirty-nine ninety,” she recites with ease.

Taeyong had thought of spending the rest of his money on a gift for Taeil and Youngho, but this charm was just so _Doyoung_. He couldn’t _not_ get it,

“And, uhm, what if they do a lot of sports… Like,” _flying?_ “In the rain… Would it damage the charm?”

“It’s sterling silver, so it’s very durable and you don’t have to worry much about rust,” she explains while picking it up, handing it to Taeyong with a warm smile. It glints prettily under the light. “If you want a chain to go with it, it’s only an additional ten dollars.”

That’s about all he had on him, Taeyong nods, “Okay, I’ll get that too.”

She raises two kinds of chains, and he picks the thinner one, thinking Doyoung would like it if it weren’t too attention grabbing, “Would you need it gift-wrapped? It’s free for the season.”

“Yes,” he digs for the lone bill in his pocket. “Thank you.” She takes the bill with thanks, gesturing for Taeyong to follow her to the counter anyway.

Taeyong smiles with he spots Doyoung still by the entrance of the store, busy with two more sales assistances admiring his hair, asking him questions that seem to fluster him. He makes a motion for Taeyong to come over, but Taeyong shakes his head, lifting a hand to have him wait a minute more. The sales assistant rings the purchase up quickly, brandishing a new charm and chain for Taeyong to check before stringing the chain through the charm, packing it neatly into a box and gift bag. She returns him the change of a measly cent, and he drops it into the tip box with an apologetic look.

“Er, excuse me,” he hears Doyoung say politely when Taeyong walks up to him with a grin. “Did you get something?”

“Yes,” he answers shortly, grabbing Doyoung by the hand and leading them back out into the busy street.

“What is it?” Doyoung asks curiously, trying to peek into the bag.

Taeyong holds the bag close with his free hand, “It’s a secret.”

“A secret?” Doyoung juts out his lower lip, turning around to look at the shop again before they turn the corner. “Was it worth seeing me get attacked by three Muggles?”

“You’re exaggerating,” Taeyong laughs, leaning against Doyoung’s arm as they pass by more trinket shops, busier and busier with every one they pass. “They were complimenting you on your hair! You did not get _attacked_.”

“Felt like it,” Doyoung huffs, turning to sniff at Taeyong’s hair before resting his cheek on it for just a second.

“Big baby,” Taeyong teases, exclaiming his apologies when Doyoung speeds up to leave him behind.

 

Taeyong showers first again when they return to the apartment, shedding their coats and shoes by the entrance, Doyoung spelling the place free of melted snow, before retreating to shower too. He takes a little longer tonight, appreciating the hot water easing the knots in his back and shoulders as he relives their date all over again.

Doyoung had insisted on trying a drink from Starbucks, having heard so much about it in Muggle Studies, and they were both equally dumbfounded at the long list of choices they could choose from. Taeyong had gone ahead and picked a peppermint mocha, and Doyoung had asked if they’d put _actual_ gingerbread into their gingerbread latte, earning himself the dirtiest look from the barista by the register.

It’d been so hilarious to Taeyong that he couldn’t _stop_ laughing, not even when Doyoung refused to talk to him for a whole two minutes (that was how long he could take not talking). The situation was only appeased when Taeyong kissed him sweetly on the cheeks, but it failed to make Doyoung feel better when Taeyong snorted again at the thought of shoving actual baked bread into a small cup of coffee.

With the brown gift bag, he climbs under the covers while waiting for Doyoung to finish showering, already yawning when he does enter the room. Shutting the lights off, Doyoung blindly moves around in the dark, groaning when his shins hit the bedframe.

“Did you forget you were a wizard?” Taeyong quips, conjuring a globule of white light (a trick he’d learnt from Youngho in exchange of teaching Youngho how to laminate his notes) as Doyoung climbs into bed.

“I thought I could see,” Doyoung mumbles, hands trying to find Taeyong’s waist, but they come into contact with the gift bag first.

“For you,” Taeyong smiles, brandishing it from under the covers to push into Doyoung’s hands.

“I – you,” Doyoung takes the bag, and a kiss, sitting up excitedly. “I didn’t get you anything… I didn’t know we were exchanging gifts.”

“It’s nothing extravagant, don’t worry,” Taeyong spells the white light to hover over Doyoung’s head, still lying on his side as he watches Doyoung tear at the sticker on the bag. “A small ‘thank you’ for all the cookies you’ve made me.”

Doyoung looks like he’s barely even listening to Taeyong, toying with the box for a second before opening it, lips parting into tiny _‘o’_. Taeyong feels all mushy just at the sight of Doyoung’s smile, shy, “I love it.” He lifts it out of the box, admiring the charm as it turns, gleaming under the light. “I love it,” he rests it on his palm, scrambling to kiss Taeyong, teeth clacking since they were both busy smiling a heartbeat before that. “I love it, put it on for me?”

Sitting up, Taeyong clasps the necklace on for Doyoung, who tucks his chin down, continuously marvelling at it. The chain is not too short, so the charm rests just under his collarbone, low enough to be hidden under Doyoung’s jersey during Quidditch matches. At that, Taeyong takes it between his fingers, murmuring the same Protective Enchantments as before, and the charm turns blinding white, magic taking place, before returning to its silver.

“I don’t know how long that’ll last,” Taeyong says honestly, releasing the Charmed whisk. “But it should hold for a quite a bit.”

“It’s okay,” Doyoung sends the box and gift back to his desk with a quiet incantation. “You can Charm it for me before every game.”

“I will,” Taeyong promises, leaning in for a kiss just as Doyoung does the same.

Doyoung kisses harder, even as Taeyong lies back onto the pillow, giggling and squirming as he tries to kiss the laughter away. It works when Doyoung moans into Taeyong’s mouth, smoothly sliding Taeyong’s knees apart to settle himself there, crotch to crotch. Taeyong sighs at the touch, Doyoung licking energetically at his teeth and tongue, sloppy but hot, and good.

Taeyong groans when Doyoung shifts to adjust the weight on his body, their hard-ons thankfully rubbing together at the movement. Doyoung rolls his hips against Taeyong, and they moan in unison, starting to feel the air around them thicken. Taeyong loses concentration on the white light, covering them in darkness once more, but the moonlight shining in from the window is enough for him to make out Doyoung’s knitted brows and flushed cheeks.

Doyoung moves to trail kisses down Taeyong’s neck, stopping again to suck hard on the same spot he’d did just weeks before, making Taeyong whimper in pleasure. He bucks up into Doyoung, moaning at the friction, rutting up again, craving the feel of Doyoung against him.

“Take your shirt off,” Taeyong manages, pulling at Doyoung’s ragged tee, gasping when Doyoung does the same to him, helping to get his shirt up and off his body. Doyoung brushes his fingers against the new mark he’s made, red-purple, licking his lips shamelessly. Taeyong has it in him to grin, “Admiring your work?”

Doyoung licks at it before, “Give me one too?”

Taeyong groans, pulling Doyoung up enough to latch his lips just under Doyoung’s clavicle, biting and sucking hard. Doyoung trembles above him, gasping as Taeyong bites down once more before kissing the mark sweetly, yanking Doyoung down for a wet kiss.

“I wish I got you something,” Doyoung says between kisses.

Taeyong pants, gripping him by the arms, “You’ve given enough.”

Doyoung grinds down roughly, and Taeyong sees stars, “You’re crazy if you think that’s actually true.” He laughs breathily, indulging Taeyong, sliding their clothed dicks together at a steady pace. All of his thoughts are rescinded to nothing when Doyoung kisses him hotly, moaning encouragingly.

“ _Ah_ – ” Doyoung groans, halting his hips to thumb the edge of Taeyong’s boxers, “Can I… If you want, I – ”

“Yeah, Doyoung,” he moans loudly, succumbing the desire to have Doyoung close, always close, because _It’s not enough,_ and Doyoung’s hand is in his pants in an instant, circling around his dick. “Doyoung – ” he whines, back arching off the bed towards Doyoung. He never gets enough of Doyoung. “I want – you – take them off,” Taeyong has trouble being coherent, fingers barely catching on the irritable pair of boxers Doyoung has on.

Doyoung laughs, even in a position like this, clamouring off the bed to pull his boxers off and helping Taeyong with his too.

“Now, come back,” Taeyong opens his arms up, pleased when Doyoung’s body is on his again.

“You’re so bossy in bed,” Doyoung notes aloud, licking a lewd stripe up his palm, reaching down to press their dicks together.

Taeyong doesn’t bother coming up with a retort, moving to spread the precome that’s beaded, joining Doyoung in jerking them off. His hips twitch erratically, and he throws his head back, sighing when Doyoung licks at his neck. Taeyong uses his free hand to wipe at the sweat on Doyoung’s forehead, and Doyoung groans at the sweetness of it, head spinning when Doyoung dips down to kiss him rough, all tongue.

“I’m – _Taeyong_ ,” Doyoung whines, pulling away with a string of saliva between them, and it drips onto Taeyong’s chin and shoulders. Doyoung kisses it clean before digging his knees into the bed and speeding up,

“I’m – getting tired!”

Taeyong lets out a peal of laughter, breaking into a moan when Doyoung tightens his grip, “You – don’t – _ah!_ – make me laugh!”

Doyoung snickers and Taeyong settles the score by pressing his thumb to the slit of Doyoung’s dick, making his boyfriend yelp, then moan, shivering under his touch, “I’m – _Taeyong_ , I’m – ”

It takes several more thrusts, several more kisses and several more moans until they’re both coming undone, spilling all over themselves and Doyoung’s sheets, riding down their highs together. Doyoung tucks his head into the pillow by Taeyong’s head until the other guides their lips together, slow and lazy with Doyoung’s tongue sliding against his.

Doyoung tires again, arms completely giving out and thumping against Taeyong without much care for the sticky situation between them. Taeyong can’t help but smile, letting Doyoung calm down before shifting to roll Doyoung off him. Doyoung whines in protest, throwing his arms up to latch onto Taeyong possessively. Taeyong makes do, cleaning the mess between them with a muted _Scourgify_ , and then a Hot-Air Charm to rid the sheets of their sweat.

“Big baby,” Taeyong murmurs, but this time, affectionately, realising that Doyoung’s already asleep on his chest. Pulling the covers over them, Taeyong closes his eyes, ready to fall asleep when he hears a whisper in the dark,

“You don’t get to a share of my mozzarella sticks next time.”

 

x

 

All good nights must come to an end, and their next day begins with Gongmyung hammering against Doyoung’s bedroom door.

“Kim Doyoung! Are you in there?”

Taeyong stirs first, coming to his senses quickly enough to realise that this would be an _incredibly_ awkward position to be caught in by his boyfriend’s older brother. He shakes Doyoung by the shoulders just as Gongmyung bangs his fist against the door again, wondering if everything was okay. Doyoung groans loudly, shaking his head at the attempt to wake him up, yanking Taeyong by the hips.

“Your brother! Doyoung!” Taeyong hisses, smacking him harshly on the chest.

“Let him do whatever,” Doyoung frowns, not caring enough to open his eyes.

“We’re _naked_ ,” Taeyong says urgently, hearing Gongmyung rattle the doorknob. “Doyoung, before he comes in, wake up, else I’ll – ”

“ _Alohomora!_ ”

Taeyong spells himself invisible, like a chameleon in the face of danger.  

“Doyoung!” Taeyong seals his lips shut when Gongmyung stomps into the room, recognizable in his Guri Gargoyles uniform. He’d been assigned to stay at the training camp until –

 _The Eve_ , Taeyong stiffens. _Today’s Christmas Eve? That means – dinner –_

“What, what, _what_ ,” Doyoung finally opens his eyes, looking over his shoulder, hands still on Taeyong’s body under the covers. It takes him a while, clearing the sleepiness from his senses, shooting upright when it does, blanket pooling at his waist. His first instinct is to check on Taeyong, and Taeyong winces when he sees the comprehension on Doyoung’s face that he’s spelled himself invisible again, even when Doyoung’s told him that it made him uncomfortable.

There was no _choice_ , Taeyong wasn’t about to let his first impression be ruined just because Doyoung can’t wake up quick enough.

“Mom and Dad have been trying to reach you for hours!” Gongmyung flicks Doyoung on the forehead, not bothered by his brother’s lack of clothes. “Had me Apparate back just to make sure you didn’t light the house on fire or something!”

“Everything’s fine, and talk about the invasion of my privacy, geez!” Doyoung grouses, hand slipping under the covers again. Taeyong takes it, and he sees Doyoung’s shoulders relax at the assurance that he was still there. “Are they home?”

Gongmyung rests a hand on his hip, eyeing the clock by the desk, “In about two hours. Get changed, we’ve to get roast Mom reserved at the butcher’s.”

“Now?” Doyoung grits.

“No, _tomorrow_ ,” Gongmyung quips. Then, “Didn’t you say you were bringing your boyfriend home?”

Taeyong snatches his hand away from Doyoung’s, shocked, _They know? They know I’m – they – Doyoung didn’t – I’m not –_

“I only told you,” Doyoung says loudly, as if he can _hear_ Taeyong freaking out. “Mom and Dad don’t know, so could you please not be so loud about it,” he flips his hand over, a silent request to have Taeyong’s hand in his again, but Taeyong’s too busy reeling from the surprise to notice.

“Calm down,” Gongmyung waves dismissively. “Where is he? I didn’t see him in the guest room.”

Doyoung pats the bed, and Taeyong takes his hand again, holding onto each other tightly, “I don’t know, maybe in the bathroom?”

“Fine,” Gongmyung eases, turning away. “Be down in fifteen, the butcher closes in a half hour.”

“Okay,” Doyoung grumbles, waiting until the door’s closed and Gongmyung’s door is opened that he swivels to glare accusingly at the invisible space where Taeyong would be.

Taeyong lets the spell loose, watching guiltily as Doyoung sighs in relief, “I didn’t want your brother to catch us naked,” he explains adamantly, but still with a sense of regret that he’d left Doyoung to his own defences. “You can’t blame me for turning invisible, what if – ”

“I know,” Doyoung says, bringing Taeyong in for a hug. “It just stirs something in me, not being able to see you, but knowing you’re there, or maybe not anymore.”

“I know,” Taeyong parrots. He _did_ feel odd the last time he’d spelled Doyoung invisible too. Though the difference was that he was in control of it. “It’s just a habit.”

Doyoung doesn’t say anything more, kissing Taeyong twice before letting him go to get ready for the long day ahead of them. Taeyong gulps, feeling grim that he’s started the day on the wrong side of the bed.

 

Gongmyung is really nice, Taeyong learns during the short time they spend heading to the butcher’s and then back. Taeyong asks him about Quidditch, about trainings and about doing interviews for magazines like _Seeker Weekly_. They stop by several shops on the way back, Gongmyung telling Taeyong of some nasty matches he’d played back when he was a Seeker in school, receiving many Bludgers to the legs and even, once, a Quaffle to the head by none other than Sehun himself, who’d seen him rushing for the Snitch. The game ended in a time-out.

Taeyong listens attentively, checking ever so often to see if Doyoung was just as interested. He wasn’t, but there was a smile on his face anyway, holding onto his hand all the while.

 

“What’re you going to tell Mom and Dad when they get back?” Gongmyung asks. They’re all lying on the couch now, with Doyoung on the middle, snacking on Muggle snacks they’d bought in the convenience store while watching a boring television programme on TLC. Chocolate wrappers and potato ship packets line the coffee table. “You’ve never brought anyone back home for Christmas, thought of a reason you did this year?”

“No reason,” Doyoung hums, cheek on Taeyong’s shoulder. “It’s going to be fine.”

Taeyong doubts that as much as Gongmyung did.

“I don’t know about _your_ parents, but mine are pretty invasive,” Gongmyung continues, getting up to stretch and Spell the crumbs and rubbish away.

“It’s going to be _fine_ ,” Doyoung insists, though with the way he’s clutching onto Taeyong, it seemed a lot more for his benefit than anyone else’s. He’s been particularly clingy since morning, “I _like_ Taeyong, and Mom and Dad won’t care anyway – ”

A woman’s voice, “Mom and Dad don’t care about what?”

Then a loud _swoosh!_ , the tell-tale sign of Apparition, and Taeyong pushes Doyoung away, rising from his seat before Mr. and Mrs. Kim come alive before his eyes, clad in tropical wear and matching leis. Gongmyung greets them politely, moving forward for a one-armed hugged from Mr. Kim, and a peck on the cheek from Mrs. Kim.

It gets awkward _fast_ after that.

Taeyong waits for Doyoung to stand too, hug or greet his own parents before Taeyong does, but his boyfriend makes no move to stand, so Taeyong speaks up, “H – hello, my name’s Lee Taeyong, I’m a friend of Doyoung’s.”

“A friend?” Mrs. Kim echoes, lifting her sunglasses to look at Taeyong properly. “Doyoung’s never brought a friend home before. We were expecting a girl, weren’t we, darling?”

Gongmyung’s face is screaming _I told you so_.

“Yeah,” Doyoung says curtly, and Taeyong turns to stare at him, puzzled at the hostility in his voice. “That’s because he’s – ”

“ – I have nowhere else to go,” Taeyong interjects with a practiced smile. _What is Doyoung doing? This isn’t what we agreed on_. The anticipation was already giving him a hard time trying to breathe, and now _this?_

“I was going to stay in school, but Doyoung offered to – let me have Christmas together with him.”

“That’s not a problem at all,” Mr. Kim says jovially, changing into a pair of sweats and a pullover with a snap. “We always have extra food here, we’d be glad to host you this Christmas, Taeyong.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Kim has the same smile Doyoung has, wide and candid, “I’ll have to get to cooking if we’re going to want to eat before the gift exchange.”

 _Gift exchange?_ Taeyong hardens. He’d come empty-handed, what kind of an impression is that going to make if –

“Don’t worry, Taeyong!” Mr. Kim calls from the large recliner by the left, seemingly having noticed his panic-stricken expression. “It’s just a Secret Santa between the four of us, a family tradition, don’t be worried if you hadn’t brought anything.”

“I didn’t – ” Taeyong cringes inwardly. “Sorry, I – ”

“My bad,” Doyoung stands, _finally_ , throwing his arm casually around Taeyong’s shoulders. “I forgot about that, I told him that he didn’t have to prepare a gift.”

“That’s fine,” Mrs. Kim remerges, pink and white apron tied to her waist, hair tied up in a bun. “Is Hyesung bringing anything?”

“I don’t know,” Gongmyung shrugs, settling back onto the couch. “She’s going to be here in a half hour, her lessons at the school ran a little long.”

“Have you met Hyesung, Taeyong?” Mr. Kim asks. “Gongmyung’s girlfriend?”

“Er, no,” Taeyong smiles, but it looks a lot more like a grimace, so he drops it. Doyoung’s arms around him is starting to feel less comforting and more like a rock on his shoulders. “No, I haven’t.”

“Very, very nice girl, that one,” Mr Kim nods, focusing on the television, surfing channels with a flick of his wrist. “Gongmyung’s got that locked down, haven’t you, boy?”

“Yes, dad,” Gongmyung groans, a blush colouring his cheeks.

Mr. Kim gives him a thumbs up, then jerking it towards Doyoung, “Now we’re just waiting on this one to find a girl and bring her home.”

 _Oh god, I can’t do this_ , Taeyong realises, shrugging Doyoung’s heavy arm off of him.

“Actually, – ” Doyoung starts, lips in a thin line.

“He’s very popular in school,” Taeyong barks a laugh, painful to his own ears. He wants to sit down, but he wants to run away too. “So, there’s no need worry, Doyoung will find someone deserving of him very easily.”

Doyoung tries to grab his arm, but Taeyong glares him down, “ _Actually_ , you guys, Taeyong – ”

“Whatever it is,” Mr. Kim says without much care. “We’re sure Doyoung will find someone soon, it’s only a matter of time.”

Mrs. Kim, hopeful, from the kitchen, “Maybe he’ll even bring her back for Christmas next year instead!”

Mr. Kim, reassuring, from the recliner, “Of course, not that you aren’t a delight, Taeyong!”

He’s going to throw up, “Excuse me, I – I have to use the bathroom.”

Doyoung yanks him roughly by the elbow, “I’ll show you where it is.”

The moment they’re safely in Doyoung’s room, Taeyong’s back is slammed against the door, head knocking against it painfully as Doyoung holds him down and kisses him fiercely. Taeyong relents, feeling lightheaded.

“Don’t think about it,” Doyoung says, sliding his hands to rub Taeyong’s back gently, trying to soothe the pain.

Taeyong tries, he _tries_ , but it’s so difficult when he understands what he’s doing to Doyoung: robbing him.

Robbing him of a chance of finding someone good enough, someone without such nasty thoughts. Robbing him of a future, one without being brought down by Taeyong, without unnecessary troubles.

“I can hear you worrying. Please, _don’t_ , just think about us, hmm?” Doyoung nods, moving further to Taeyong’s neck.

“I don’t think I can do this, Doyoung,” Taeyong grips Doyoung’s biceps tight, but he doesn’t push away. Not yet. “I – I need time to think, I don’t think I can – ”

“No, no,” Doyoung pulls apart, and his eyes are so wide that Taeyong knows they both know what’s to come. “ _Yes_ , yes, you can. I’m sorry, I just – I got greedy, I won’t say anything about us! Don’t think about them, just – you just have to think about me, about what we _have_ – ”

“I _am_ thinking about you,” Taeyong pushes him away then, and Doyoung goes, not far enough. “I – don’t – this – ”

“Why – suddenly – is this about my family? Tell me, what is it, let me help you – ”

“It’s nothing,” Taeyong bites, inching away from the door. “It’s nothing, I just need time to think – ”

Doyoung takes him by the wrist, and Taeyong lets him, “Why are you being like this so suddenly? I’m sorry for slipping up – I just wanted to tell them, I saw how you were with Gongmyung, how happy you looked, I want that with my parents too, with you, I want them to _know_ what you mean to me and – ”

“Don’t,” Taeyong digs his nails into his palm to stop the tears from forming, “It’s too quick. Y – you need to give me some time, I can’t – Doyoung – ”

“Okay,” Doyoung breathes, trying to lace their fingers together but Taeyong’s too stiff to let him do it. “Okay, I can do that. Just wait here, I’ll tell my family you’re not feeling well, that you won’t join us for dinner. We can stay up here, I won’t even have dinner with them, I’ll just – ”

“No, I can’t,” Taeyong spells his things into his bag, zipping it up loudly. “I need to leave, I – ”

“What? No,” Doyoung holds onto him tighter, looking more and more manic. “You can’t _go_. Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know,” Taeyong spells his bag into his hand, dodging when Doyoung reaches forward to take it from him. “I just know I can’t stay here, I have to go – ”

“Then I’ll come with you,” Doyoung is so clearly fighting for him, for _them_.

Taeyong’s heart breaks.

“I’ll go with you wherever you go, it’s not safe to go alone, just wait, I’ll – ”

“No, Doyoung,” Taeyong pulls himself free. “I’m sorry I agreed on coming, I just – this is too much, it’s – ”

“Okay, I’ll stop!” Doyoung pleads, eyes starting to brim with tears. “I’ll stop everything, whatever you want! Just tell me what you want me to do, _talk_ to me – don’t _leave_ , you can’t leave, where will you go? Taeyong, _please_ – ”

Taeyong doesn’t want to do it, “I don’t want to hurt you, I – ”

“Don’t leave, then,” Doyoung implores. “If you leave, you’ll hurt me,” he grits his teeth, hating the words. “I’ll be worried, and it’ll _hurt_ me, so you can’t leave, Taeyong, not now, at least.”

“I didn’t mean now,” Taeyong backs away, grip tight on his bag. “I mean, forever. I don’t want to ruin your future, you’re so _good_ , you deserve more, you deserve someone more than just me, Doyoung – ”

Doyoung sucks in a shaky breath, “A – are you breaking up with me? Is this what this is? After all we did, you – you – what about all the things you said last night?” Doyoung cries, helpless. Taeyong shuts down. “The night before? On our dates? You – you said you were catching up, Taeyong, did you lie?”

“Did you do all this because you felt bad for me?” Doyoung whispers, pained. “Did I force you to – ”

“Of _course_ not, you idiot!” Taeyong snaps. Doyoung recoils. Taeyong grabs his wand from his back pocket, “I just – you need to think about the _future,_ about what you’re going to miss out, about what you’re giving up for this – ”

“ _I’m_ not giving up,” Doyoung jumps to grab Taeyong. _This isn’t going to work, he isn’t listening_. “You’re the one giving up, what are you – ”

“I’ll see you in school, okay?” Taeyong doesn’t know if the magic will hold. He’s so tired. “Please tell your parents that I’m sorry, that I had to go home for Christmas, I – sorry, Doyoung, I’m – ”

“Don’t leave,” Doyoung begs. “Why do you insist on leaving? Taeyong, whatever it is, we can work it out, I _want_ to work it out, so – ”

It’s too difficult to Appparate out without the proper concentration, Taeyong needs to calm down.

“Doyoung, _please_ , just – think about it,” oh, this is _painful_ , “You have so much to lose if we keep this up! I don’t have anyone to let down, but you – ” Taeyong’s legs are weak, “Your family, they care about you, you can’t – soon, I won’t have anything to give you, I – I’m sorry I let this get so far, I didn’t know – it’s so _easy_ to love you, I’m sorry, I just need time – I shouldn’t have – ”

“You love me?” Doyoung’s breathing is ragged, and his lips – the air is punched out of Taeyong’s gut. “Taeyong, you love me? You _love_ me?”

It’s a habit,

Taeyong spells himself invisible.

“Wait!” Doyoung cries, lunging forward to blindly reach for Taeyong, but he sidesteps easily, and Doyoung falls to his knees.

Taeyong covers his mouth with both hands, trying to keep silent, holding onto the magic with everything he has.

“D – don’t do this, Taeyong,” he looks around the room, and Taeyong _almost_ let’s go. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, _please_ stay.”

It’s quiet, and all Taeyong can hear is the sound of his heart beating in his ears, and Doyoung trying to collect himself.

“You say it’s too quick,” Doyoung slumps against his chest of drawers, fingers moving up to touch the charm sitting on his collarbone. “You say you love me. What are you really saying?”

Taeyong doesn’t move, blink nor breathe.

“It’s not just about giving, y’know?” Doyoung continues softly, as if he was talking to himself. “It’s give and take, and you – I don’t even know what to say. Are you even here?”

Taeyong bites on his hand to keep the sobs from breaking through.

“I hate this,” Doyoung bristles, kicking at the carpeted floor. “I _told_ you I hated this, I hate it, I _hate_ it. Why won’t you just talk to me? I tell you everything, I – I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but,” Doyoung glances around the room, eyes passing where Taeyong is standing, having moved across the room, “If you want to break up, if that’s what you want – _no_ ,” he alters, “No, I want to talk about it, you can’t just decide things on your own.”

“Did you really leave?”

Taeyong loses hold of the magic, and he hears Doyoung crying out for him before he gathers what he has left in him to Apparate to Central Station.

 

Apparating under such tense conditions is always dangerous. Without sufficient magic or concentration, he could’ve Splinched, losing an arm or a leg or split into twos or threes, but Taeyong manages, as always, successfully landing himself in an empty bathroom cubicle in Central Station. He leaves the dirty restroom, moving to sit on a bench for an hour or so, watching Muggles pass without care, calming himself down and gathering enough magic, numbly figuring his next destination.

There were no trains running to school, he had no money to catch a cab with, and he had no broom to fly on. He couldn’t go back to Doyoung’s, and worst, he couldn’t go back _home_. Taeil and Youngho were spending Christmas in school, making it the only viable choice.

So, he goes.

Following the train tracks, Taeyong Apparates every ten miles, slowing down to walk when he feels himself get light headed, then Apparating again. It takes too long, and too much energy, but he makes it, weak and soulless, to the gates of Hogwarts.

He spells himself invisible with what little magic he has left in him, holding it just long enough until he passes the guards, and the magic is gone. There’s no way to Apparate to the Common Room while on school grounds, so he walks with heavy legs, crossing the Quidditch Pitch and the Courtyard, freezing from the snow. His cloak is covered in it, and he’s soaked to the _bone_ , but Taeyong doesn’t even have enough in him for a Hot-Air Charm.

On autopilot, he taps on the barrels leading to the Hufflepuff Basement purely out of memory work, near collapsing the moment warm air hits him in the face.

“Is it – ”

“It’s – Taeyong? Taeyong!”

Hands are on him, warm and small, and not Doyoung. Taeyong groans at the sheer stupidity.

“He’s freezing, Youngho, do something!” Taeil’s voice is rich with panic, dragging his best friend’s lifeless body onto his lap, patting at his cheeks. Warmth surrounds him in the next instant, and Taeyong feels his clothes rid of water. “Where – where did you come from?”

“Did you _walk_ back?” He hears Youngho from beside Taeil, larger hand coming up to feel at his forehead. “He’s burning up, we should take him to his room.”

Taeil moves away enough for Youngho to pick Taeyong up easily, and Taeyong tries to crawl from his arms when all he wants is Doyoung. Delirious.

“Just to bed, Yong, you need to lie down.”

There’s no fight left in him when Youngho lifts Taeyong in his arms, walking briskly across the Basement. Taeil follows, taking Taeyong’s bag with him, directing Youngho left and right until they’re in the right dormitory. Youngho rests Taeyong gently down, stepping back to let Taeil fuss over him.

“This is so irresponsible!” Taeil scolds, but he still helps to tuck Taeyong into the warm blankets. Taeyong wouldn’t be surprised if Taeil was more worried than mad. “I can’t believe you came back through the snow, Taeyong! Imagine what could have happened! What if someone _saw_? Did you bloody walk back from Central Station?”

Taeyong moans, turning his back to Taeil, too embarrassed and drained to explain himself, the situation.

“Can you cast another Hot-Air Charm?” He hears Taeil ask Youngho, and another rush of warmth settling around him, alleviating his fingers and legs of the cold sting. “I would do it myself, but I might light him on fire.”

“You’re not going to light him on fire, Taeil,” Youngho laughs quietly. Taeyong wishes they would leave. “Maybe he needs something to eat?”

“Okay, I’m going to get him a hot cocoa, can you keep an eye on him?”

Youngho assents, and Taeil pitter-patters out of the room, footsteps quick. Taeyong closes his eyes, listening carefully as Youngho sits on Seungcheol’s bed, sighing. It’s a long time before Youngho asks, “Are you okay?”

Taeyong tightens his jaw. No, he was not. His brain isn’t working and there are _no_ thoughts he can form about his rash actions, leaving Doyoung, Apparating for hours back to the castle. All he wants are answers,

Then,

“Do you love Taeil?”

Youngho doesn’t answer, and Taeyong only turns to look when he can’t stand the silence.

“What?” Youngho blinks.

“I asked you if you loved Taeil,” Taeyong says firmly.

Youngho glances at the door, then back at Taeyong, “Yeah. I do. I love him.”

Taeyong steels his gaze, “If he wanted you to, would you give him up?”

Without a fraction of hesitation, “No.” Youngho watches him carefully before continuing, “He’d have to give me a really, _really_ good reason. And maybe even then I wouldn’t.”

“What if it was for your own good?” Taeyong presses, trying to find answers he’d been too afraid to ask Doyoung for, too afraid to speak up about when his parents were right under them.

Youngho _laughs_ , “That’s a stupid reason.” At Taeyong’s frown, he says, “What?”

“Nothing,” Taeyong glowers, turning back around.

“It wouldn’t do me any good if he left just like that,” Youngho says anyway. “If he loves me as much as I love him, he’ll have to explain it to me. If he didn’t, he’d only be hurting me.”

That is a kick to the gut.

When will Taeyong stop making mistakes?

“Here,” Taeil huffs, announcing his arrival. It took him quite a while to get the hot cocoa. He forgoes tiptoeing around Taeyong, moving to stand in front of his best friend until Taeyong relents, sitting up with a groan.

“I’ll give you guys some time alone,” Youngho whispers, leaving but not without slamming clumsily into the door frame, having been too busy staring at Taeil to watch where he was going.

Taeyong drinks only a sip, refusing anymore when it doesn’t settle well in his stomach. Taeil shoos at him to make space, climbing into bed with Taeyong without needing an invitation. He lies on his back, resting his hands on his torso, and exhaling loudly.

“A letter arrived before you did,” Taeil says, focusing on the ceiling. Taeyong, on his side, focuses on Taeil. “From Doyoung.”

“A letter?” Taeyong whispers.

“Mm,” Taeil nods. “Scared the wits out of Youngho and I when we heard his owl try and peck through the barrels… The letter said he didn’t know where you were going, but he guessed it’d be here.”

Taeyong thinks he’s cried enough on the journey home, but it didn’t seem to be the case because his eyes are starting to well up again at the mention of Doyoung, “Did he say anything else?”

Taeil reaches over to take one of Taeyong’s hand, soft and kind, “That he didn’t say anything to his parents,” Taeil closes his eyes at having to deliver such a message. “That he wanted to come after you but he didn’t know how. That he wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’ve already sent a letter his way,” Taeil takes a deep breath. “Told him you were fine, that you’ll spend Christmas with us.”

Taeyong doesn’t want to cry. He _did_ this, he shouldn’t be crying, but tears still fall, staining his pillow covers, “Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to interrupt – and it’s your first Christmas with Youngho.”

“Don’t be silly,” Taeil chides, squeezing Taeyong’s hand. “There’ll always be more after school ends. There’s life after that too, y’know?” Taeil threads slowly, but Taeyong knows.

“Exactly,” he mutters. “I can’t just be thinking about life in here, I need to be thinking about all the things at risk when – we leave this place.”

“What I meant was,” Taeil says clearly, tilting his chin down to read Taeyong’s expression. “There’s always going to be _more,_ and it’s going to be worth it to work through the knots and kinks together, right?”

“Relationships aren’t all roses,” he goes on. “I’m planning on asking Professor Jung if he could recommend me to study Potions professionally, and Youngho wants to play for the national Quidditch team, which means we’ll be apart a lot, and we won’t be staying together either. I was worried about that too. I won’t get to see him every day anymore,” Taeil hums sadly.

“You still have a whole year left here with Doyoung. If you really like him, shouldn’t you at least try and work whatever’s going on? Take the time to strengthen what you have before you go out into the real world?”

Taeyong doesn’t sleep easy.

 

x

 

Christmas break passes quick. Youngho and Taeil take an inordinate amount of time to make sure Taeyong’s doing okay on his own, to the point Taeyong’s frustrated enough to hide out in the kitchens, ignoring the pain that lingers whenever he looks at the spot Doyoung’s always taking up. The start of the second term comes fairly quick, more and more students returning with arms full of presents and bellies full of Yule Log.

Taeyong stares at the entrance to the Great Hall on the first day of classes, wishing, wishing, _wishing,_ Doyoung would quickly reappear, because he wants to talk now. No turning invisible or running away anymore, Taeyong just wants to make things right.

“Morning,” Youngho calls, sliding into the seat beside Taeil, nearly pushing the smaller seventh year over when his lips come into contact with Taeil’s cheek. “Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly, grabbing Taeil by the chin and kissing him properly.

“Morning,” Taeil grins, giving Youngho another kiss before pulling away, returning his attention to the bowl of pudding in front of him.

“By the way,” Youngho clears his throat, reaching for a croissant on Taeil’s right. “I saw Doyoung on the way here.”

Taeyong tries not to look too bothered. Doesn’t seem to work.

“He was with that Ravenclaw Prefect, by the broom cupboard around the corner?”

Taeyong nods, not trusting his voice to remain steady. His gut was already gurgling at the thought of seeing Doyoung again, after what happened. On instinct, Taeyong looks to the entrance again, heart dropping when he spots the familiar head of orange.

Doyoung.

He doesn’t spare Taeyong a glance, not so much as breathing in Taeyong’s direction even. Yuta, on the other hand, has his eyes trained onto the poor Hufflepuff, eyes sad, almost, but expressionless otherwise. They make their way to the Slytherin table, Doyoung sandwiched between Yuta and another Slytherin boy, backs facing Taeyong.

“I should go over,” Taeyong says, mostly to himself. “I should go over right now.”

Taeil disagrees, “Eat something.”

Taeyong shakes his head. He can’t eat with his heart in his throat. Standing shakily, he walks hastily over to the Slytherin table, limbs cold and seemingly detached from his body. He taps Doyoung on the shoulder lightly, but he doesn’t look up.

Yuta does, on his behalf.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong says softly, doing his best to ignore the curious stares and whispers that manage to reach his ears. “Can we talk?”

“No.”

The answer is so quick, frankly, Taeyong doesn’t know if he’d heard right.

“Hey,” Yuta nudges Doyoung in the ribs, but the Slytherin doesn’t budge, keeping his head lowered. Taeyong’s heart lets up a little when he catches sight of the silver chain against the back of Doyoung’s neck. He’s still wearing it.

“Oh,” Taeyong doesn’t know how to handle the rejection. “Okay.”

“Hey,” Yuta says again, jamming his elbow into Doyoung, but all he gets is a shake of the head, orange hair flopping around.

Taeyong appreciates the help from Yuta, but it doesn’t seem like Doyoung’s going to give in anytime soon. Embarrassed, he turns away, _Accio_ -ing his belongings into his arms, and rushing out of the Great Hall. Before he turns the corner, he Charms a strip of parchment into a paper plane, reading _I’ll be waiting for you tonight_. With a deep breath, he sends it flying to Doyoung, hoping he’d show up tonight.

 

He doesn’t.

Doyoung doesn’t show up the next three _weeks_ either, doesn’t speak to Taeyong, doesn’t look at him, bump into him. If anything, Taeyong’s positive the boy’s not even _thinking_ about him. It’s a clear sign that things are so obviously over, but Taeyong never fails to catch a glimpse of the necklace, and it’s throwing Taeyong off.

Is this a break up? Is it not?

Without Doyoung’s cookies and the extra stress, Taeyong stuffs himself with the school’s chocolate chip-marshmallow cookies, feeling even _worse_ when he goes to bed. It’s too much sugar, causing him to have delirious highs and frustrating lows. Taeil works to wrestle every cookie from Taeyong’s fingers, afraid his best friend might end up sick if he kept it up.

 

It’s inevitable, the weekend of the first Quidditch match of the term – Gryffindor against Slytherin. When Taeil laments over having to go alone, Taeyong doesn’t know if he’s secretly happy that he gets to go under the reason of being Taeil’s support, or if he’s happy he gets to see Doyoung play. Even _if_ things are over, Taeyong’s still excited to see Doyoung in his element, flying and tumbling, dodging and swerving, and falling and –

Okay, maybe Taeyong was a little worried.

“Youngho says to meet at the Quidditch Gate before the match,” Taeil says gleefully, tugging along a sullen faced Taeyong as they brush past a throng of students heading in the opposite direction, towards the stands. “I want to wish him luck!”

Taeyong fights the urge to run away, suddenly realising that both Gryffindor and Slytherin teams were going to be there. It’s pointless when they turn the corner, because both teams and Professor Kim are standing around the gate,

“Weather is rough today,” Taeyong hears Professor Kim remind the players. He spots Doyoung immediately (how could he not?), standing near the back, both hands on a sleek, black broom, face hardened. “Be careful out there.”

With a flourish, Professor Kim turns to walk out onto the Quidditch Pitch, greeting the stands of students and staff alike. They watch as Youngho and Sehun both relay some final instructions to their teams before clapping each other on the back with matching grins. Taeyong slinks behind Taeil, and the way he’s bouncing on his toes as Taeyong nervous that he might attract attention and,

“Youngho!”

Thank you, Taeil.

“Babe!” Youngho beams, ignoring the blow of the whistle to hop over and envelope Taeil in a big hug. “What’re you doing back here?”

“Just wanted to wish you good luck,” Taeil smiles, kissing Youngho and hurriedly pushing him back towards his team.

Taeyong’s breath quickens when Doyoung looks up, and for the first time in three weeks, they lock eyes. He tries not to frown at the lack of expression on Doyoung’s face, returning it with a tight smile of his own. It’s odd to be standing at the Quidditch Gate with twenty other people when it’s always just been them two.

Things have changed, of course. Doyoung ignores him, following two other players as they parade out into the snow.

“Doyoung!”

He can’t stop himself from rushing forward, grabbing Doyoung by the elbow. Their fourth year Beater Kim Yugyeom steps aside to head on to the pitch, giving Doyoung a loaded look before beginning to wave at the spectators on the stands.

Doyoung frowns, and he parts his lips to say that he has to go, but Taeyong works swiftly, grabbing the chain from just under the scoop of Doyoung’s jersey, muttering a series of Protective Enchantments, as he’d promised he’d do before.

Releasing the charm from between his fingers, Taeyong takes a step away, afraid that he might’ve crossed the boundary Doyoung’s set between them. He doesn’t think his heart could crack any further, but apparently, with Doyoung’s harsh gaze, it does.

“Good luck,” he says hoarsely. The pain in his heart multiplies when Doyoung walks out without a word, shaking his head, leaving Taeyong in the shadows then the Quidditch Gate closes right in his face.

“Yong?” Comes Taeil’s voice, gentle and mindful. “Let’s go to the stands, they’re starting the match soon.”

Wordlessly, Taeyong nods and they make their way to the spectators’ stand. They don’t stick out too much, squeezing to the front, even with their yellow robes, because everyone knows Taeil as Youngho’s boyfriend by now. The Gryffindor scarf around his neck (Youngho’s) and the scarlet beanie on his head (again, Youngho’s) is a big enough sign.

Boo Seungkwan, a Slytherin third year, turns out to be the boy that’s always by Doyoung’s side, and he also happens to be the sole announcer for this inter-house Quidditch match.

The game starts and proceeds easily; Taeil cups his mouth, shouting words of encouragement to Youngho floating near the hoops just right by their stand. Taeyong, on the other hand, has his hands on the wooden railings, eyes on Doyoung, occasionally watching the Quaffle fly about, much faster than their game of hot potato, and much harder to keep track of than what’s portrayed on books.

“ – Gryffindor in possession – Kim Mingyu with the Quaffle – to Jung Jaehyun – to the goal but! Fantastic blocking by our Captain Oh! Back to Im Nayeon – who dodges a nasty Bludger from Kim Chungha – to Lee Jooheon – who shoots and! Ten points to Slytherin, making it seventy to thirty, with the greens in the lead!”

Taeyong spots the Seekers floating high above the match, Seeker Minhyung looking extremely small beside fifth year’s Minatozaki Sana, poised and eagle-eyed on her broom. Chaser Seokmin scores a goal just as Beater Sejeong thwacks a particularly unruly Bludger in Sehun’s direction, distracting him enough to score ten points, moving them up to seventy-forty.

“The Quaffle is back with Slytherin – Captain Oh tosses it to our team newbie Kim Doyoung – ”

Taeyong gasps on instinct when he sees Doyoung swoop past the stands, Quaffle tucked safely under his arm.

“ – who, by the way, is the younger brother of the Guri Gargoyles Seeker, Kim Gongmyung! – Just fun facts, Professor, no harm being done! And to Im Nayeon, who outflies Lee Seokmin and – a perfect lob from Kim Doyoung! The Quaffle flies right by Captain Seo – that’s another ten points to Slytherin!”

 _Im Nayeon? Where have I seen her before?_ Taeyong pushes the thought away

The game goes up to the hundred, Gryffindor catching up when working on the play of distracting Sehun with Bludgers when it’s time to score, bringing it to one-sixty to one-forty, Slytherin leading. Taeyong casts Hot-Air Charms around he and Taeil repeatedly since the other was too afraid to light their robes on fire. He swallows nervously when he sees Beater Chungha fly by with her bat, her lips near blue from the cold. Before he can do it for her, Beater Sejeong casts a Hot-Air Charm her way, sending her a thumbs up before flying off, defending Chaser Jaehyun from a Bludger.

Like a moth to a flame, Doyoung is the only thing on Taeyong's mind. As he’d expected, Doyoung’s too focused on the game to pay his own body any attention, cheeks devoid of colour, one hand tight on the broom. Taeyong bites on his tongue, discreetly casting a non-verbal Hot-Air Charm Doyoung’s way.

Doyoung startles, momentarily taking his eyes off the game to stare at his hands, then turning to scan the stands, pausing when he sees Taeyong staring straight at him. He turns back to the game, and Taeyong wants to turn his heart off.

“ – and Gryffindor intercepts Captain Oh’s throw! Jung Jaehyun to Kim Mingyu – Ouch! Im Jaebum’s Bludger straight to Kim Mingyu’s forehead! – He’s alright folks, that’s what helmets are for – Quaffle back to Kim Doyoung – to Im Nayeon – no, Jung Jaehyun – to Lee Seokmin and – ten points! One-sixty to one fifty, Slytherin lead!”

“ – wait! Minatozaki Sana is diving towards the stands, Lee Minhyung right on her tail! Could it be that she’s spotted the Golden Snitch? – Quaffle to Lee Seokmin – to Jung Jaehyun – the Bludger! From Kim Yugyeom, but the Gryffindor narrowly escapes, flying straight to the hoops – with distracting Bludgers batted from _both_ Kim Chungha and Kim Sejeong – one-sixty to one-sixty, the first tie in the game!”

“That could all change if the Golden Snitch is caught for one-fifty points! But it seems like both Seekers have lost sight of the – Quaffle to Jung Jaehyun! Ten points to Gryffindor, one-sixty to one-seventy, Gryffindor leads! Captain Oh to Im Nayeon, passing Kim Mingyu, who fails to intercept, busy dodging a heavy Bludger from Kim Yugyeom, to Lee Jooheon – hit by Kim Chungha’s ruthless Bludger! Gryffindor in possession once again, with a distraction from Kim Sejeong – Lee Seokmin scores again! One-sixty to one-eighty, Gryff – what is – is that a – ”

Seungkwan’s confusion is echoes across the pitch, and Taeyong follows his line of sight to see a Bludger chasing Doyoung insistently.

“A hex?” Taeil supplies, torn between looking at Youngho and Doyoung, confused at the turn of events. Taeyong leans over the railings, unblinking, eyes tearing at the dryness of it, watching with a tight heart as Doyoung swerves and dips, trying to avoid the Bludger.

“ – Professor, I think – Im Jaebum knocks the persistent Bludger off Kim Doyoung’s tail! The Quaffle lands in Im Nayeon’s possession and – the Bludger is back! This is – Beater Kim Yugyeom is on it! Knocking the rogue Bludger – well, that’s what it _is_ , Professor! – towards Captain Seo – who dodges it smoothly!”

“It’s a hex,” Taeyong hisses, scouring the stands, eyes landing on a familiar head of _blonde_. Sneer and concentrated gaze, Taeyong has a bad feeling about this. He searches for the Slytherin Chaser in the air, glowering when he notes Im Nayeon looking equally bothered.

_They’re in it together?_

It clicks,

“It’s him! From the Common Room!”

Taeil grabs Taeyong before he can rush off, “What? What are you talking about Taeyong? Common Room? Who – ”

“ – one-sixty to one-ninety by Kim Mingyu! Gryffindor leads – the Bludger! D – Doyoung! Look out!”

The entire stadium discounts Seungkwan’s break in formality when Doyoung shoots up towards the sky, passing even Minhyung and Sana as he tries to shake the Bludger off.

“Oh my god,” Taeil breathes. Taeyong can’t.

The Bludger manages to ram into Doyoung’s back, swiftly knocking him off his broom, free falling from at least sixty feet in the air, arms and legs flailing. Taeyong racks his brain for a spell; he knows none, he can’t think, no words leave his lips. Chasers and Beaters try to catch him by the ankle, by the cloak, but everyone misses.

“Catch him! Youngho!” Taeil _shrieks_ , along with the rest of the students watching. _Someone, catch him!_

Youngho’s already there, trying to grab at Doyoung’s _anything_ , to no avail. Sehun swoops under, but Doyoung’s falling too quick, why isn’t anyone doing _anything_?

No spells come to mind, and there’s not enough magic in Taeyong. He fumbles for his wand, screaming the only spell that might help,

“ _Aqua Eructo!_ ”

A large and intense jet of water spews from the tip of the wand, pointed several feet under Doyoung. It drenches everyone in the way, including Youngho and Sehun, who were both still zipping past, struggling to grab Doyoung by the limbs. The water slows the fall by a fraction, causing Doyoung to float mid-air, soaked, before falling ungracefully into the pile of snow with a loud _thump!_

Professor Kim blows his whistle, speeding down towards Doyoung. Sehun and Youngho immediately call for a time-out, stooping to join Professor Kim on the ground. There’s a loud buzz among the stands, everyone watching the scene carefully, the lot of them eyeing Taeyong suspiciously for having shot that blast of water.

Taeyong nearly falls off the railing, leaning so far forward, trying to get a closer look. Professor Kim raises an ‘okay’ sign, but calls for the match to end. A stretcher is conjured and Taeyong blinks only when he sees Doyoung writhing on it, eyes screwed shut, lips twisted into a painful grimace. The rogue Bludger is eliminated when Youngho gains permission to use his wand while on the Quidditch Pitch. He promptly lights it on _fire_ , and Sehun Vanishes its remains with a scowl.

A billow of blue robes is on the scene then, and the brown hair that comes with it is enough for Taeyong to know that it’s Yuta. He has one hand on the stretcher, wand in his other, and Taeyong is relieved to see water being lifted off Doyoung’s uniform. It’s unwise to use a water spell when the weather’s practically sub-zero, but Taeyong could barely _think_.

“Let’s go,” Taeil is grabbing him again. “Taeyong, we’ve to go!”

Dazed, he goes, letting Taeil drag him through the halls and pass the Great Hall, leading them to the Hospital Wing. The entire Slytherin team and half the Gryffindors are waiting by the entrance, and no one bothers to stop them when Taeil barges into the infirmary, Taeyong in tow.

“Youngho!” Taeil lets Taeyong go, shuffling into Youngho’s open arms, worry etched into his face.

“Mr. Lee.”

Taeyong gulps. If it weren’t obvious enough that Taeyong was the one who casted the Aqua Eructo Charm, his water-logged cloak would suffice as evidence. Madam Kwon notices just that, tutting disapprovingly and Charming Taeyong completely dry.

“Sorry,” Taeyong apologises first. His eyes dart to the bed, but Yuta draws the curtain, looking sorry as he did so. _He doesn’t want to see me_.

_He doesn’t want to see me._

“I had to do _something_ , I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Five points from Hufflepuff for wand use on the Quidditch Pitch without permission,” Professor Kim says sternly.

“Ten points to Hufflepuff for saving the boy lest he loses the ability to ever walk again,” Madam Kwon counters, ignoring Professor Kim’s look of incredulity. “There is only so much a _Brackium Emendo_ can do, Professor Kim,” she continues primly, gesturing for Taeil and Youngho to move aside so that she could tend to Doyoung. “I only want six of you in here, the rest of you – out!”

Yuta doesn’t hesitate, “I’ll stay.”

“Me too,” Seungkwan says, and the girl by his side nods, taking a seat with a deep inhale.

“I will as well,” Jaehyun speaks up, standing close to Yuta, snowflakes still peppering his hair.

There are still two empty spaces left, but Taeyong doesn’t offer his presence, not when Doyoung clearly wants him to stay away. Professor Kim remains as well, to Madam Kwon’s dismay, telling both Sehun and Youngho that they’ll have a rematch to the game when time permits. They leave together, bidding Doyoung well wishes and a quick recovery as they do, Taeyong keeping hush all the while.

“That was brutal,” Youngho groans when they’re out in the hall, in front of the other players, outside hearing distance. “I haven’t seen anyone fall from that height since Byun Baekhyun and that freefall for the Golden Snitch three years ago.”

“What happened to him?” Mingyu asks, cheeks flushed red. Taeyong notices that they’re all warm enough now.

Sehun waves dismissively, “Park Chanyeol caught him by the ankle. Lost the snitch to Ravenclaw’s Kim Junmyeon too.”

Youngho sighs, “They fought for _ages_ after that.”

“This was different,” Taeil interjects. “It was a hex.”

Remembering his breakthrough, Taeyong glances around – but Im Nayeon’s already stepping forward, head low,

“I know who casted the hex,” she mumbles guiltily. “I tried to tell him to stop, but – ”

“Who?” Sehun says simply, the ferocity carries without much effort.

“That blonde kid,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “He figured Doyoung was the reason the Hufflepuff – ,” she jerks a thumb at Taeyong, “ – was in the Common Room that day, I don’t know how, something about the Quidditch Gate, or whatever. I tried to tell him to cut it out, but he seemed hell-bent on getting revenge for that cat kibble thing.”

“Cat kibble?” Youngho balks.

“You were in the Slytherin Common Room?” Taeil asks, justly confused.

“It was him?” Sehun seethes. “Again?”

“Who?” Youngho runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“I don’t know,” Sehun sniffles, thumping his broom hotly against the ground. “But when I find him, I’m going to – ”

Nayeon shakes her head, “Don’t bother. I’ve already told Prof. Jung on the way here.”

Sehun frowns, disappointed at losing the chance of taking the situation into his own hands, “I hope he gives the kid five extra essays for Potions.”

“Or task him to scrap bird crap off the Owlery,” Youngho snorts. He had to do that once. It was horrendous.

“Whatever it is,” Nayeon swivels on her toes, looking sincerely apologetic as she faces Taeyong. “I figured I apologised on his behalf, though technically, I didn’t _do_ anything.”

“Ah, getting off with technicality,” Seokmin says dryly. “A Slytherin in action, truly.”

“It’s okay?” Taeyong says unsurely. There was too much attention on him. Who was he to speak for Doyoung anyway?

“Whatever,” she sniffs, stalking away with her head held high.

The silence that is left by her absence is cold and awkward, but Sehun breaks it with, “She’s not all that bad, actually.”

Youngho guffaws, telling everyone to change out of their uniforms before heading down to the Great Hall for dinner. It seemed like Doyoung was going to be just fine. He had the right people by his side now.

 

x

 

In all honesty, self-restraint was never one of Taeyong’s strong suits.

He scarfs down more than ten cookies at the dinner table, waiting for Taeil and Youngho to excuse themselves (just as they always do) before leaving the Great Hall too, casting himself invisible the moment he turns the corner. The Hospital Wing is not far from the Great Hall, but it takes a long time for Madam Kwon to come by, and he slips in right behind her, praying that she wouldn’t hear the rustle of his robes or the squelch of his shoes.

Silently, he approaches Doyoung’s cot, holding in a surprised squeak when he finds Doyoung fully awake, staring blankly into the ceiling. His arms are all bandaged up, the rest of his body is tucked comfortably under a blanket. There are already piles of chocolates and sweets on the table by his side, but they’re mostly untouched.

Taeyong is frozen to the bone, taking in the quiet and the chance to look at Doyoung’s face. How long has it been since he’s _touched_ Doyoung’s cheek? His lips?

“Hey!”

Taeyong very nearly stumbles into the table of goodies when Yuta appears from behind him, a plate of roast beef and mashed potatoes in his hands.

“Got permission from Madam Kwon to bring these in here, so eat up,” Yuta says, thunking the ceramic plate carelessly onto the table, pulling it close to Doyoung. He takes the seat on Doyoung’s left, picking up an unopened Chocolate Frog, mercilessly biting into its animated head, ridding it of magic immediately. “A waste,” Yuta sighs, pulling out a pentagon-shaped card of Headmaster Lee. “They put so many of him in these, they don’t have enough of the good ones.”

“Mm,” Doyoung hums impassively.

“Sungjae and Sanghyuk are always buying tons of these, trying to get the cards they want, especially that hot auror, Park Kahi,” Yuta belittles. “Don’t they know these are rigged? Ninety percent of these are probably Headmaster Lee, let’s be real here.”

Doyoung stirs the potatoes listlessly, words so out of conversation,

“You do dumb things for the people you love.”

A jab straight to Taeyong’s heart.

Yuta shoots Doyoung a dirty look, disheartened at his refusal to lighten the mood, “I take it he hasn’t come by.”

Taeyong’s hands fly up cover over his lips.

“You’re right,” Doyoung deadpans.

Yuta takes another bite out of the frog’s torso, “Do you want him to?”

Doyoung chucks the fork across the room with a frustrated groan, and Yuta waves it back with a non-verbal spell, cleaning the trail of mashed potatoes it’d left too. “I don’t know.”

“Really?”

“No,” Doyoung says. Then, with a sigh, “Yes. No.” Again, “I don’t know, whatever. I don’t care.”

“He practically saved your life, y’know?” Yuta lifts his brows. “With that fancy Aqua Eructo Charm of his. Haven’t heard that since, what? Fourth year?”

“He also drenched me in water,” Doyoung grumbles childishly.

“I wonder if having broken bones is better than being drenched in water!” The amount of sarcasm is unreal. Yuta bites a leg off the frog, “I know you’re worried about – _that_. But you _have_ to talk to him at some point, right? He’s your _boyfriend_ , Doyoung, he’s not just an unattainable crush anymore.”

 _Afraid?_ Taeyong blinks. _What of?_

“Whatever,” Doyoung inhales deeply. He pauses. Then, he closes his eyes, leaning back into the pillow. “I don’t care.”

Taeyong doesn’t expect Yuta to say,

“You _do_ care.” He crushes the empty Chocolate Frog box, holding Headmaster Lee’s card as he gets to his feet. “Now, _I_ don’t care if you lie to me. Just,” Yuta shrugs. “Don’t lie to yourself.” He handpicks several more boxes of candies and sweets, leaving with a casual, “See you tomorrow.”

Doyoung remains motionless until the door to the infirmary is shut, and his lips part, just slightly, to let out a tiny bit of breath. He sucks in another deep breath, turning to his side with a quiet groan. Taeyong steps forward doubtfully, not knowing how to go about his next move when he’s been standing, _invisible_ , for the past fifteen minutes. Should he say hello? Should he pretend to come in through the doors? Did Doyoung even want to see him? He did, didn’t he? There’s –

Doyoung breathes in heavily,

“Are you going to say something or are you just going to stand there?”

 

Doyoung wasn’t talking. Surely, he wasn’t talking. Taeyong was hallucinating it, was dreaming it, imagining it.

“You’re _radiating_ chocolate and marshmallows,” Doyoung continues, back to Taeyong, as he’s been the past fourteen days. “Those are really bad for you. Just flour and sugar. Literally zero nutritional value, none whatsoever.”

Taeyong holds onto the magic tight.

“Want to know what I’ve been doing the past three weeks?” Doyoung laughs bitterly. Taeyong doesn’t answer, but Doyoung seems adamant on having the conversation like this. “Trying to find a spell that countered invisibility,” he hums, tapping his fingers leisurely against the blanket, as if unfazed. “Spent all night in the Restricted Section, in the Ravenclaw Library. Nothing,” he intones. “Only the caster can lift the spell. Plus, I only found a spell that shoot flour from my wand, that’s nice, isn’t it?” Taeyong feels faint. Doyoung’s tone was so _cold_. “At least I’ll be able to _see_ your silhouette or something, huh?”

“I knew you’d use it against me one day,” Doyoung scoffs. _Ouch_. “It makes me so uncomfortable,” he scorns. “Knowing that you could just flit off like that, Charming yourself invisible. I don’t know if I’m talking to a wall.”

 _Is that what you’re afraid of?_ The words don’t leave Taeyong’s lips.

“When you left that day,” Doyoung recalls. “I couldn’t even think, I was so _hurt_.” Taeyong brushes the phantom tears away. “I didn’t know – I told you not to leave, it was so dangerous out there. I couldn’t _breathe_ until I heard back from Taeil. Did you know that?”

Taeyong remembers crying all night. Pathetically. Into Taeil’s arm.

“I get it, I really do,” Doyoung shrugs, shoulders to his ears. “I get that meeting my family is difficult, I shouldn’t have forced you, I’m sorry,” Taeyong wants to say that he wasn’t _forced_. He was merely… he didn’t know what he was. “I just don’t get _why_ you keep running away from me. I don’t see you doing this with anyone else. Do you regret being with me or something? I don’t understand you.”

 _It’s the complete opposite_.

Taeyong forgets, inching forward to rest a hand gingerly on Doyoung’s shoulder.

Quick like a bolt of lightning, Doyoung’s hand is clamped over Taeyong’s wrist, eyes flashing angrily when he realises that Taeyong’s still invisible, “I don’t want to talk to you like this.”

Taeyong doesn’t relent.

“Fine,” Doyoung quips, letting Taeyong go with another hard glare.

Taeyong leaves his hand on Doyoung’s shoulder, letting the magic go when Doyoung threatens to turn on his side again. He watches as Doyoung’s eyes soften in that instant, the act dropping faster than when he’d grabbed Taeyong. Doyoung rushes to sit up, throwing his arms around Taeyong’s neck. Taeyong yelps when Doyoung pulls him forward roughly, knees knocking noisily into the side of the cot.

“Doyoung?” He murmurs throatily, gingerly returning the hug, careful not to bump into his injuries. Doyoung refuses to look up, burrowing his face into the crook of Taeyong’s neck.

This was not what he was expecting.

He’d thought Doyoung to be… mad.

“I just wanted to see you,” Doyoung presses his nose to Taeyong’s skin, shamelessly inhaling Taeyong in. “Why did you leave? I don’t understand anything, Taeyong. Will you _please_ just talk to me?”

Taeyong slumps onto the edge of the bed. Doyoung still smells like homemade apple pie.

“I was just worried,” Taeyong holds Doyoung tight when he tries to move away. It’d be a lot easier without Doyoung staring so caringly at him. “You – I didn’t realise how different our families were – you,” he tucks his chin into Doyoung’s shoulder, muffling his words, “You mean so much to me. I don’t know how – why – _when_ – ”

“Hey – ”

“That day,” Doyoung smells like _comfort_. Taeyong breathes easy, “I said to think about what you’re giving up, not that you were giving up.” The pile of Chocolate Frogs stare back. “I have nothing to lose, my parents, they don’t care anymore, they think I’m non-existent. I can’t just go back into the Muggle World and be an accountant or something, but you – you can do whatever you want. You have so many people behind you, I – you mean so much to me, Doyoung, I would hate it if I got in your way.”

The lack of response is disconcerting.

“I can’t imagine you losing out in your career, or a family, the one you have now and the one you might have in the future,” Taeyong’s skin prickles. “I have nothing to lose, but you – everything – ”

Doyoung tears himself away, and Taeyong thinks it’s over,

“I don’t want to lose _you_ , Taeyong.”

A kiss, unexpected, but so very much welcomed. Taeyong melts with Doyoung’s hands on his face, kissing him with enough passion to scare the thoughts away.

“You keep talking about – about losing nothing,” Doyoung says against his lips, eyes shut. He gives Taeyong another kiss, pulling on his lower lip,

“What about me? You’re okay with losing me?”

Taeyong grips at the blanket, trying to ground his senses. His body fails to listen, letting Doyoung kiss him again. It’s been too long. He remembers the question, and he shakes his head, but the words don’t match his actions, “If it means it’s for your own good – ”

“You don’t know that,” Doyoung protests smoothly, regretfully sliding away. “The past month has been horrible, Taeyong. I’ve only had you for so long, can’t you stay a little longer?”

Taeyong thinks with a clear head, “It’s not that I don’t want to – ”

“Okay,” Doyoung says, invigorated by the admission. “Okay, then let’s just stay as we are? I just – I want you to be sure that you want it as much as I do, I don’t want you to just be going along just because you feel bad for me, or – ”

“Stop that,” Taeyong scowls. “You _know_ it’s not that, of course, it’s not that. It’s just… I can’t help but worry about these kinds of things, it – of _course_ , I like you, Doyoung, I know, I left – ” he doesn’t know how to reason his actions. “I – you can’t _possibly_ think that I don’t like you – I – I just – I worry.”

Doyoung nods, “Then that’s enough for me.”

“Doyoung…”

“I only backed off because I – I couldn’t talk to you when I knew you were going to run away again,” he mumbles. Taeyong registers the tight grip Doyoung has on him. “I have no intention of letting you go now, I hope you know that.”

Taeyong gapes like a fish on land, brain not absorbing much when Doyoung shifts to reach under his pillow, brandishing a brown gift bag that’s a shade all too familiar.

“I hoped for the best,” Doyoung remarks, opening the gift for Taeyong when he doesn’t move to do it himself. “I bought it the day after you left,” his voice is hushed, letting the matching silver chain and silver cookie-shaped charm take the limelight. It gleams under the moonlight, just as Doyoung’s had that night. “It’s like a set,” Doyoung laughs nervously, despite everything. He prattles on, “Y’know, like a whisk and cookies, I don’t know, I thought this would look nice on you, and it matches mine, and – ”

“You didn’t have to,” Taeyong says, but he motions for Doyoung to put it on him. It’s so terribly _trivial_ , matching necklaces, but it comes with such heavy meaning that Taeyong can’t find it himself to laugh. “You’re so – ” Taeyong doesn’t know what to say.

He wants to tell Doyoung that he loved him, but he won’t. Not right now, at least, even though he’s already said it, in a way. There’s a time and place for everything and this isn’t it. He will, one day, just as easily as Youngho admitted he loved Taeil. It won’t be because of a rush of emotions or a slip of the tongue. It’ll be a day when they’re side by side, and it’ll come so naturally that there’d be no reservations about saying it.

There’s no need to rush into it.

There will always be fear and apprehension, but Doyoung is worth it.

“I’m so what?” He sways close, wrenching Taeyong back to reality. Taeyong tips forward to kiss him lovingly, and Doyoung grins into the kiss.

Taeyong ignores the question, falling for Doyoung all over again when he feels Doyoung toy with the cookie charm. “Promise I won’t do it again,” Taeyong says earnestly. Turning invisible, _leaving_ , Doyoung will know it all, like he does everything.

Taeyong repeats it over and over, _I mean it, I mean it, I mean it,_ until his lips are numb and so insistently pressed against Doyoung's that they might as well have been stuck together.

“I trust you, you heartbreaker,” Doyoung says with a sigh.

It’s ridiculous, crying again and again, but Taeyong does, thanking every single deity that Doyoung is who he is, open and trusting, enough to cover up Taeyong’s faults and baggages. He’s going to do better, _be_ better for Doyoung. They say that salvation should never be bunked completely on someone else, and Taeyong knows just that. He also knows that Doyoung will be here for him, never pushing, always giving Taeyong enough space, enough time. 

“You’re a big baby,” Doyoung chides, closing Taeyong into a hug.

Taeyong punches him weakly, “That’s mean. Could you at least consider the situation?”

“You started it,” Doyoung scoffs, pressing a kiss to Taeyong’s crown. “But I'll still share my mozzarella sticks with you.”

Taeyong stares up into Doyoung's eyes, dark, marred with lighter hues when the moonlight hits just right, pushing him to believe what his heart wants him to hear,

It’s enough. Everything is enough, just like this, together. They can handle whatever comes their way, together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(“You never actually told us,” Youngho says over breakfast one morning, long arms draped over Taeil’s shoulders. Taeyong wouldn’t be surprised if his leg was hanging over Taeil’s thighs under the table. “What dirt did you have against Sehun?”

“Oh,” Doyoung shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He’s taken to having breakfast with the trio, making it a _double date_ every morning, no matter how hard Taeil refuses to acknowledge the term itself. “I don’t know if I should tell you guys, I mean – he did hold up his end of the deal.”

Taeyong picks a peanut butter and jelly cookie from the emerald napkin between the four of them (though it’s really only for him), “You don’t have to – ”

“I won’t tell, I won’t tell!” Youngho pleads, grinning mischievously, eyes practically _sparkling_ at the thought of having something to use against Sehun. “What do you know?”

“Well, er,” Doyoung twiddles his thumbs together. “It was a long time – like a year ago, and I was by the Quidditch Pitch, and I saw him and Im Jaebum struggle with a random Bludger during – uh, Gryffindor’s Quidditch practice and it went through several of Professor Choi’s greenhouse ceilings, and since it was Gryffindor’s practice, everyone just assumed it, uh, was from – ”

“ _Wait_ ,” Youngho deadpans, straightening. “That was _him_?”

Doyoung winces, nodding.

“I _knew_ that wasn’t one of Chungha’s Bludgers,” he balks. “I told Prof. Kim it _couldn’t’ve_ been us – oh my _god_ ,” Youngho eyes dart to the Slytherin table. “I scraped owl _shit_ off the Owlery for! _Two!_ Months!” Youngho enunciates, already getting to his feet. He waves his wand right at Sehun two tables over, sending several bread rolls to Sehun’s head.

He bellows across the Great Hall, a good half hour past eight in the morning,

“I CAN’T _BELIEVE_ I SMELLED LIKE OWLS’ BUTT FOR TWO MONTHS BECAUSE OF YOU, OH!”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i am _so_ sorry)
> 
> kudos + comments / criticisms are greatly appreciated ♡ feedback warmly welcomed! [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung) | [more notes](https://jenhyung.tumblr.com)
> 
> edit, 10 july: related drabble, [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35318670)!


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